


Love Is Blindness (I Don't Want to See)

by EffortlesslyOpulent



Series: Love is Blindness [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst/Romance, Betrayal, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, Gang AU, Jealous Bellamy, Jealous Clarke, Jealous Lexa, Jealousy, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Past Relationship(s), Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 182,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6172684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffortlesslyOpulent/pseuds/EffortlesslyOpulent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Powerful business executives by day, cutthroat kingpins by night, Lexa Woods and the Blake siblings have been rivals since they inherited their parents’ respective companies.  When Clarke Griffin, fostered by the Blakes, has a chance encounter with Lexa, she’s sent to work for her and spy on her. Lexa Woods is no fool. And Clarke shouldn’t be falling in love with the enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Commander

Clarke would be lying, if she had told anyone that work was her sole focus on this particular evening. It wasn’t every evening that she felt this detached. Clarke loved her job. She did. This residency was her final step to becoming a surgeon, to making something of the miserable choices that constituted much of her childhood life. She hadn’t known her own potential. The Blakes did. They always saw the persistent, intelligent girl, behind fiery blue eyes that could ignite wars. She snapped back to attention, feeling guilty for having wasted any of the precious time she was given to learn.

“Clarke?” A deeper voice sounded from behind her, making her jump.

“Dr. Jaha.” Clarke whipped around, feeling a hand on her shoulder, clad in a white coat.

“Please, Clarke, how many times have I told you? It’s Wells.” His voice was warm, welcoming. Wells was like sitting by the fire after a day out in the snow. Clarke found him endearing, a source of great friendship…but more? Clarke wasn’t quite done braving the blizzard. To settle down with someone like Wells? Not after Finn.

“Wells.” Clarke examined his warm chocolate eyes with some sense of embarrassment. How long had she been gazing out the window?

“Eyeing the famous Ark Hospital view huh?” Wells leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He watched Clarke’s previous spot, by her favorite windowsill on the highest story. Before Clarke could answer, he seemed to soften up a bit. “I mean, not that I blame you….DC is a place of beauty. Well, besides the monsters that lurk around at night and all that…” He jerked his head toward the general direction of Capitol Hill, and Clarke couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her lips.

“It’s Friday night, Clarke. The night is young. Go home. Go out. Get away from here.” Wells finally broke, and Clarke could tell that he had caught on to her reverie. She needed a break. She was tired.

“Wells…” Clarke ran a hand through her hair absently. “I love this job.”

“No one works harder to save these people, Clarke. You don't have to tell me.”

“But…sometimes I feel as if…maybe I’m in the wrong line of work.” Clarke admitted, sucking in a breath. She'd never really said that out loud before. The icy feeling in her chest was both painful and liberating all at once.

Wells treated her confession quizzically, raising a brow. “Uh.” Was the first incoherent form of communication that spilled from his lips. “What do you mean? Wasn't your mother-“

Clarke abruptly cut him off, unwilling to delve into her personal affairs any further. “Sometimes I think…if we had more power, more initiative to do something…..we wouldn't _have_ to heal all these people.”

Wells looked as if he’d been struck by understanding. He began nodding slowly. “Power…like the Blakes?”

Clarke hadn't even realized what she’d been implying. “Well…now that you mention it…I guess.”

Wells’ brow furrowed and suddenly he was shaking his head. He looked around, ducking his head quickly so that they were mere inches apart. “Clarke!” He hissed, vigilant eyes watching the lit hallway outside their enclosed break room. “What they do…it's not safe. It's a dangerous game they play. People like you and I…. we clean up the messes. We fix things. They are the reason people come to us shot up, Clarke. They're all bad- the Blakes, that Woods girl…the ‘commander’ or whatever the hell her street name is…”

Clarke couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. Maybe it was the irony of it all, the fact that she’d grown up with all the illegal escapades of the Blakes and their underground gang wars, contraband raids, their less than savory methods of…pushing their product to the streets. She watched Wells’ horrified expression with one of pity. How little he really knew.

“How could you be laughing?” He looked incredulous.

“The commander? Really? What does she have an army?” Clarke scoffed, turning to grab her bag from the table she’d left it on. She’d never even met the infamous ‘commander’. How dangerous could she be?

Wells’ voice carried her out the door as she saluted him with a wry smile.

“That’s exactly what she has.”

* * *

 

“You’re late.” The unmistakable snark of Raven Reyes was somehow sweet to Clarke’s ears as she made her way down the last steps of her apartment, changed and showered after her tiring day of work and strange exchange with Welles.

Clarke eyed the brunette, clad in her typical work attire. Leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a ponytail. At least that was some sort of constant in Clarke’s tumultuous life. Clarke took in a breath of the sharp evening air, pulling her own jacket a little close to her.

“Good evening Raven. I had a great day at work, how about you?” Clarke’s overly cheery voice sent the message, and Raven relented from her casual position, leaning against her jeep.

“Come here, Griff.” Raven pulled her into a hug, and Clarke reciprocated, grateful for the warmth. “Busy day?”

Clarke shook her head and blew a breath. “It’s always busy at the Ark.”

Raven made a face of disgust. “Hospitals aren’t my thing…. But I love sending people there.” She smirked. “Which I’m sure I accomplished today. Got to meet my quota and all that.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I guess there are some advantages to playing body guard for the Blake siblings.”

“Some? Try a lot.” Raven made her way over to the driver’s side. “Watch out, there’s blood on the front seat.”

Clarke, about to lower herself into the chair, quickly tore herself back. “What?” Her voice was tinged with concern, and a little remorse.

Raven barked out a laugh. “I’m just kidding…God, you _are_ tense tonight.”

“So…” Clarke murmured absently as she shut the door, watching as Raven pulled out onto the main street and began the usual route to the Blake office building. “Not that I mind the ride, but…shouldn’t you be on Octavia duty? Bellamy usually has you watching her like a hawk.”

Raven winced. “Actually…O snuck out, and she got into a bar fight last night.”

“Whoa.” Clarke leaned back in her chair. “That must’ve been some spectacle. How did Bellamy punish her this time?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Murphy. He’s been on her ass all day, doing _my_ job.”

Clarke shook her head. “She’s grown up. She can handle herself.”

Raven clicked her tongue in disagreement. “Hardly. She loses her temper whenever she runs into any of the Grounders. Woods has them on a tight leash.”

Clarke frowned. There was that name again. Maybe the rivalry was heating up after all. “You mean the commander?”

Raven grinned, making a sharp right. “Yeah that’s what we’ve taken to calling her. Good to know word still spreads like it used to.”

Clarke watched the lights blur past her window, as if she were a comet hurdling past the now illuminated streets of DC. She wondered how many people’s wishes she too could disappoint. Comets never worked for her as kid, anyway.

“Hey…” Clarke’s murmur left a fog on the cold window she’d been pressed up against absently. “That’s not the right way to-“

“-detour.” Raven cut her off. “Bell asked me to grab a package for him from some legal office downtown.”

Clarke shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Maybe those energy drinks weren’t going to pay off, since her shift was effectively cancelled.

Raven, like clockwork, pulled up to the side of a long series of buildings that took up the whole of the street and beyond. Clarke glanced up at the majestic height of some of the structures, their black tinted window panes reflected the sun kissed horizon that was rapidly greying. She regretted the fact that she had no way of painting what she was seeing. She really needed to start carrying her supplies around with her.

“Got to pee?” Raven’s voice shook Clarke from her thoughts.

“Huh?” Clarke eyed Raven curiously. “How do you-”

“You’re swaying back and forth like a virgin at prom, Clarke.” Raven accused with a small smile. “Use that building right there- I’ll just be a minute.”

“Raven, I can hold it.”

“No, you can’t.” Raven’s tone was final.

Clarke glanced up at the building before her. There was an awning, and an intricate plaque on the marble wall. The sign read: “Marcus Kane, Legal Services.” As she approached it, she was relieved to find the fluorescent lights through the window. She turned around, disappointed to find that she was alone. Raven had snuck off as usual. She pushed the heavy, metal framed doors in, quietly and modestly, as if she were entering a great cathedral.

Clarke found herself in what appeared to be the main lobby of the firm, adorned with pictures, bookshelves, tables and magazines. A security guard was standing stiff against the far wall, leaning against the black marble, her eyes trained on Clarke, and yet no offending movement was made.

Clarke glanced down at her jeans and sports jacket, and not for the first time in her life, realized her own inadequacy. This place was posh, and she was an eyesore.

There was a young receptionist at the front desk, looking as polished and proper as the rest of the building. He was typing away the computer in front of him, his Bluetooth speaker buzzing away in his ear as he would occasionally grunt a kind word of approval to whatever client was on the other end of the line.

“Ma’am, Mr. Kane isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.” Suddenly the receptionist clicked off his earpiece and rose from his chair, clasping his hands together. He eyed Clarke once over, not in the flirtatious way, but in the slightly judgmental way. Clarke tried not to shrink under his gaze.

“I’m so sorry, I just…” Clarke leaned to one side awkwardly. “Is there any way I could maybe…” God, this was embarrassing. “Use the- “

“The lavatory is down the left hall, about five doors down.” The man seemed to understand, though his tone showed no sign of acceptance.

“Thanks, I… Thanks.” Clarke didn’t know what to say, and she quickly found herself flushed with embarrassment. She headed down the hall, leaving behind the guard and receptionist with haste. And then her eyes fell to the photos that adorned the walls. There was a man in a suit, in almost every photo, smiling or shaking hands with various icons. Celebrities, politicians, socialites…Marcus Kane must’ve had one hell of a talent for law.

Clarke’s musings led her to the end of the hall, as she eyed every picture with curiosity.

It was the shouting that startled her. It was a girl. She was in a fit of rage, it seemed. Clarke quickly identified that the shouting was coming from the large double doors behind her. The main office. Clarke couldn’t help it. Intrigued, she tried to hone in on the argument.

“I don’t care how much it costs, Kane.” The same voice that was yelling moments ago was now calmer, heavier, brusque. In control. Clarke didn’t know that voices could be attractive. But this one…it was an enigma to her.

“Ms. Woods, would you _please_ listen?” A man’s baritone voice rang from the other side of the room. It was exasperated, like a parent trying to console a child in a fit.

“No, Kane, I’m tired of listening. _You_ listen.”

 _Dam_ n, Clarke thought. _She’s relentless_.

“People are dying. And you’re telling me there’s no connection? No probable cause? Not enough evidence for you to give up one of your own elite, more like it.” The girl’s voice was unwavering. It gave Clarke goosebumps.

“Miss Woods, come now. That’s hardly fair. We’re on the same side!” Kane’s voice was desperate now. He might have been losing whoever this Woods character was, as a client.

“We’re done here.”

Clarke fell flat on her ass when the double doors swung open, revealing a tower of a man, and beside him, a tall, slender woman. The fall was less than graceful, and the reception of her eavesdropping? Even more so.

“Who the hell are you?” The woman’s voice was cold, sneering almost. The tips and length of her hair were blonde, but as Clarke’s gaze drew closer to the face, she saw that her roots were dark. Not that her hair color was pertinent though, because she still looked like she was about to hand Clarke’s own ass to her.  No one offered Clarke a hand. Clarke remained firmly planted on her seat on the floor, overtaken by a mixture of fear, embarrassment, and dread.

The brute of a man leaned forward, and Clarke got her first good look at him. He was just that- a brute. His long hair was pulled back, his face largely covered by a beard most Vikings would envy. “She was listening-“ His hand, raised back to do some damage, no doubt, was caught behind him. The gargantuan man froze, lowering his hand at once.

“That’s enough, Gustus!” There it was. That voice. Clarke scrambled to her feet, simultaneously as Gustus stepped aside, to reveal the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen in her life. And she’d seen Octavia. And Raven. 

The first thing Clarke noticed were her eyes. They weren’t warm, like Welles. They weren’t comforting. They felt electrifying, a bright, sharp green gaze that held the power to stop time itself. And her eyeliner, black, thick, threatening, complimentary. Her lips were next. In fact, Clarke spent a little too much time staring at them, so much so that she ended up biting her own. And then her arms, her slender build apparent even under her business suit. And her long brown hair, parted to the left, cascading like a silk waterfall of waves over her shoulder.

“I…I didn’t hear…I’m just looking for the…uh….” Clarke began stumbling over her own words, incoherently trying to express her confusion, mild fear, and apology through her tone.

“Gustus….leave us.” Miss Woods, presumably, made a dismissing gesture in the air and suddenly Gustus was unsurely lumbering down the hall and out to the back.

Anya, the other tall girl, glanced behind her. Kane must have left through the back way once her associate decided on a dramatic exit. She shut the door behind her, eyeing Clarke brutally.

“Who are you?”

Clarke’s mouth dried. This was trouble. And that had to have been the great Lexa Woods.

“No one.” Clarke shook her head. “I’m no one, I’m-“

“Answer the question.” It was Anya who issued the threat, pressing a binder of important looking documents to her chest impatiently.

“I can speak for myself, Anya.” Lexa snapped. Anya fell silent once more. Lexa’s eyes roamed Clarke’s body, and while Clarke could have imagined a million other ways in which it might have otherwise been a pleasurable experience…it was threatening.

Lexa rocked back on her heels, satisfied that Clarke was no immediate danger.

“I’m Clarke Griffin.” Clarke internally smacked her forehead. Why. Why did she just reveal her identity to her own worst nightmare? It was something in her that wanted to appease Lexa, to show her that she wasn’t weak, unafraid to confront her.

“Clarke Griffin….” Lexa drawled, a smirk adorning her full lips. “I’m-“

“Lexa Woods. I mean, Miss Woods of Grounder Corp.” Clarke blurted out. She turned beet red. What a royal fuck up.

Lexa raised a brow curiously, but before she could speak, Clarke intervened. “You and your company are…renowned, at Ark Hospital…. where I work…I’m a surgeon…. well, not yet, but-“ Clarke was desperately trying to cover her own tracks. Lexa couldn’t know that Clarke knew about…everything else.

Lexa looked impressed. “A doctor? At Ark?”

Clarke nodded, swallowing thickly. Anya was eyeing her like a lion eyed its prey before the fatal pounce.

“Do you like your job?” Lexa asked suddenly. It was a rare chance for Clarke to divert the subject, though, and she took the chance.

“Hmm? Oh, I love it. In fact, I was just talking about….” She trailed off abruptly when she realized she had in fact been regretting her job that very afternoon.

“We need a resident doctor, in the building.” Lexa’s voice rang with authority, with opportunity.

“In a pharmaceutical building?” Clarke raised a brow. “Don’t you have plenty-“

Anya snapped, gaining Clarke’s attention. “We have matters…of urgency, sometimes. Other times, we just want someone to file paperwork. You look like you could handle that, blondie.”

Lexa eyed Anya with some amusement. Anya handed Clarke a black business card, ushering Lexa away with a glance at her watch.

“Come in for an interview…you might like the change of pace.” Lexa called over her shoulder.

Clarke’s phone started blaring then, before she was able to muster a reply. Raven’s face filled the screen, a rare smile on her features. Clarke answered instantly.

“Clarke? Where the hell- how long does it take you to pee? I have the package, let’s go!”

Clarke sighed, dusting off her pants from the fall. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming.” She muttered, hanging up.

Clarke had just met Lexa Woods. And she’d survived.

* * *

 

It had been a ritual. Ever since Clarke and Raven were fifteen and Bellamy was twenty years old. They would meet after a long week of work, in one of the conference rooms in the Blake office tower, and talk about their days. They would fill each other in, make jokes, comfort one another…it was the closest thing Clarke ever had to family. Monty, Raven, and Murphy were later additions, but still welcomed. Bellamy had found jobs for them all. Raven and Murphy were his eyes and ears on the streets. His muscle. Monty was his numbers guy. His tech, his informational genius.

At the age of thirty, he’d ascended to the throne, the lofty position of C.E.O of Blake pharmaceuticals. His sister was on the board, and together, they ran one half of the both legal and illegal drug empire that ravaged Washington, D.C. each night.

The other half belonged to Lexa Woods.

That’s what they’d told Clarke ever since she became part of their inner circle. Ever since they pulled her off the streets and gave her a home, and goals, and financial aid to educate herself. They were everything to Clarke. They were all she had.

By the time Clarke stepped off the golden plated elevator, she could hear the music. It was upbeat, dance music, the kind she would get tired of after hours of clubbing with Raven and Octavia. It, in its own sickly little way, felt like home too.

She pushed open the doors to Conference Room A, the one on the highest floor, with the greatest view. So unlike Bellamy to settle for any less.

Clarke and Raven were greeted by a hug. Clarke got a whiff of the perfume, the straight dark hair, and she immediately knew. She watched the brunette tenderly pull them both into a hug, her eyes gleaming with delight. She was so young, carefree, and headstrong…Clarke adored her two friends.

 “Hey Octavia.” She murmured into her friend’s arms, laughing as Raven rolled her eyes and tried to get out of the hug.

“Raven come on!” Octavia yanked her back into the embrace. “It’s been a very…testosterone filled day. I need some girl love right now.” She glanced at Murphy, sprawled out at the far end of the table with his hands behind his head, feet on the table, and scotch in hand. He rolled his eyes and nodded at Clarke and Raven, taking a sip of the amber liquid.

“Hey guys!” Monty called from behind them, carrying several bags of take out. “It’s Friday, and that means Chinese!”

Murphy snorted, leaning back in his chair.

“Just because I’m Asian, it doesn’t mean-” Monty’s rebuttal to Murphy’s insensitive teasing was cut off by a loud throat clearing.

Every head in the room turned to see Bellamy himself, clad in his usual suit with the necktie hanging around his shoulders instead of being properly fastened on.

Raven leapt out of her small window of opportunity to avoid Octavia’s hug. “This better be good, Bell. We’re just about to eat.”

“I have a hot date this evening.” He announced, smirking when Monty dropped a box unexpectedly while Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Again?” Clarke was the first to speak. “Didn’t you just break that girl’s heart…. what was her name…. Monroe?”

Bellamy shrugged. “I tell them not to get attached. Not my fault if they fall for the good old Blake charm.”

Murphy leaned forward to grab a box of takeout. “Who is it this time? Senator’s daughter? Supermodel?” he smirked.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” Bellamy announced, pulling Clarke and Raven in for a quick hug before settling down to eat.

“Technically you haven’t kissed yet.” Clarke muttered, tossing him a pair of chopsticks.

“What are you jealous?” Murphy kept his voice low, elbowing Clarke in the side. “Want some of that d-  
 

“NO.” Clarke’s refusal sent him into a fit of laughter. “Never. Like, ever. In a billion years.”

“Even if we were the last people on earth in a nuclear apocalypse that wiped everyone else out?” Murphy tried once more.

“Ha, especially then.” Clarke retorted, grabbing a loose noodle.

“So, who wants to go first?” Bellamy asked around, watching his companions tear away at their food mercilessly. “Griffin? How was your day at the ark?”

“Good.” Clarke nodded, chewing slowly to save herself the effort.

“Just good? How’s that Wells kid going for you?” Octavia chimed in knowingly.

“He’s getting nowhere. That Welles kid is just a friend.” Clarke replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She was fine, after Finn. She didn’t have to move on right away. “But….” Clarke trailed off. “I did run into Lexa Woods today.”

Bellamy and Octavia dropped their utensils. Raven started choking. “You what?” They all cried at once, the sudden upheaval surprising Clarke.

“Yeah, like…Physically. She offered me a job…” Clarke continued.

Bellamy was in hysterics. “SHE WHAT?”

Clarke leaned back in her chair, suddenly uncomfortable. “Yeah, um-”

“Did you accept, princess?” Murphy didn’t let her finish. He knew Clarke hated that name.

“I said…well, I didn’t really say much of anything.” Clarke sighed. “What the hell do they need me for-”

“Who the hell cares?” Bellamy was fired up, leaning forward in his chair. "Maybe they need a resident doctor." 

Clarke’s eyes widened. “OH.” She blinked for a moment. That made sense. That’s why Anya was so unwilling to explain herself. 

“Clarke, you have to take it. You have to tell us how she operates, who her clients are….” Octavia began, eyes alight with curiosity. She was as energetic as her brother. 

Raven’s eyes were wide. “We’ll have them on their knees!”

Monty looked uncomfortable. “Uh…is this safe? For Clarke?”

No one answered.

“I don’t know…” Clarke shook her head, thinking of Lexa’s intense green gaze. She’d die under her watch, surely.

“Clarke…” Bellamy reached across the table, grabbing either of Clarke’s hands. “Please.”

Clarke glanced down at her food, then up to each expecting set of eyes that awaited her confirmation, and she found that she couldn’t buckle under the weight. They needed her, just like she needed them so many years ago. Just like Finn needed her when she couldn’t save him.

“Fine.” Clarke sighed, watching the uproar of celebratory outbursts from everyone but Monty, who looked concerned. “I’ll call her next week.”

Clarke Griffin was going to spy on Lexa Woods.


	2. Are You Loyal?

It had been two weeks since Clarke had her unceremoniously uncoordinated meet with Lexa. One week of “playing hard to get” as Raven had called it, though Clarke reminded her it was Anya’s number that she’d be calling for an interview, not Lexa’s. And Anya certainly was interested in anything Clarke had to offer. And then it was a week of waiting for the set date to approach. It was agonizing. Clarke spent every second of everyday thinking about Lexa. She couldn’t understand why she found her so enigmatic. At first, Clarke chalked it up to all the tales she’d been told about Lexa and her business and gang operations. She was ruthless. But Clarke found that her thoughts didn’t cease at Lexa’s behavior, but her looks. The wild emerald eyes that made Clarke feel uneasy, legs weak, breathing labored. It was unlike anything she’d felt before. She didn’t know what it was.

Bellamy had covered for Clarke at the hospital. Meaning, she’d thrown his name around and everyone got the message that it was okay for Clarke to take a leave of absence. Welles seemed disappointed and suspicious when she’d broken it to him, but she had no choice.

This was everything that mattered to her. Family, duty, loyalty. She would make it work. She had to. For Finn. For Raven. For Bellamy, Octavia, Murpy, Monty, and everything in between. To prove to herself that she wasn’t a waste of potential, time, or love.

Whatever Woods was going to throw her way, she’d take it. She’d learn from it and report to the Blakes. She’d be a good soldier.

* * *

 

Lexa’s building was the real deal.

Grounder Pharmaceuticals, colloquially known as Grounder Corp. was one of the few lasting and great works of architecture in the downtown area. It sported colored brick and classical column driven architecture, like most of the monuments that DC came to be known for. The inside, however, was quite modernized. Clarke would later learn that the building was a great metaphor for Lexa herself. Not only that, but it was buzzing with workers that cared very little about Clarke’s existence, as no heads were turned when she made her way to the first floor receptionist’s desk. She felt awkward, carrying a tray of coffees she’d felt inclined to bring for some reason. She felt incredibly stupid, then.

It was there that she was faced with a beautiful, older looking blonde lady, perhaps in her early fifties. Her hair was tied behind her, her work attire crisper than any combination of clothes Clarke owned. Her suit must’ve costed more than Clarke’s rent. And that was after Bellamy’s assistance to get her going.

 She rose from her seat with a smile, standing to shake Clarke’s hand, which had not even been outstretched.

“You must be Dr. Griffin.” The woman smiled through almost pursed lips, as if she were facing a time restraint, and every second Clarke delayed, she would take a pay reduction.

“Hi, yes…” Clarke trailed off oddly. What was one to say in that sort of situation?

“I’m Nia, Anya is expecting you.” She spoke swiftly, glancing at her watch. “...two minutes ago, actually.”

Clarke bit her lip nervously. She knew stopping to get coffee was a bad idea, but she wanted o make a glowing first impression.

“I thought…Anya was the secretary…” Clarke suggested casually as Nia walked her to the elevator at a brisk pace. Clarke was still in awe of the murals that adorned the walls, the golden outline of the elevator shining at the end of the hall.

Nia let out a wry chuckle. “Anya is the vice president of operations. Try not to forget that, if you’d like a position here. I am no… _secretary_ ” She looked scornful, tactlessly expressing her distaste to Clarke. “I’m a shareholder.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Oh. Wow. Thanks, I guess, for helping me out.”

Nia nodded. “I’m here to help Lexa make important decisions in such a dire time for her family.” She elaborated no further, and Clarke knew better than to ask.

“Fifth floor, end of the hall. Her office is beside Ms. Woods. Try to be prompt, dear.” Nia motioned forward and whipped around, her heels clicking against the buffed floors.

Clarke nodded and balanced the drinks in her hand, hoping desperately that they’d still be hot.

She watched the elevator tick its way up, 1…2…3… Clarke sighed when the elevator stopped. She went rigid, however, when she saw the same giant from before, Gustus, slam a massive hand in the closing space, forcing the automatic doors open once more. Along with him came another man, much younger, cleanly shaven from head to facial hair. He wore a simple black shirt that displayed chiseled features and tribal tattoos. Clarke couldn’t help but stare. Was all of Lexa’s entourage so…godly?

Gustus merely grunted something in what sounded like a foreign language, and the other man raised a brow. He turned to Clarke with a knowing smile.

“Hey there. I’m Lincoln. You must be the new doctor.” His tone was much warmer than Clarke had anticipated.

“You can call me Clarke.” She reached out with her free hand to shake his outstretched hand, offering a smile.

“You’re here to see Anya, hmm?” His eyes, dark and mysterious, reflected a glint of sympathy. So Anya had that effect on everyone.

“That’s the plan.” Clarke sighed, eyeing Gustus, who remained stoic, in the corner of her vision. “What is it you do here, Lincoln?”

“I’m Grounder Corp.’s head of….uh…security. Well besides Indra, but she’s more of Lexa’s personal detail…”

Clarke felt nauseated suddenly. He was no head of security. He was Lexa’s hired muscle, for her less than savory illegal activities. He was Lexa’s version of Raven, or Murphy. Or the countless others Bellamy enlisted as pawns in his quickly unraveling war of interests.

Lincoln flashed a wry smile once more, and Clarke suddenly felt as if she were a lamb in a den of lions. She longed for Raven’s confidence and muscle, or Murphy’s callous gaze to be behind her, to back her up.

To show that she wasn’t completely, utterly alone. But she was.

Lincoln seemed to sense the fear that radiated off Clarke in waves. “Be aggressive.” Lincoln turned to face her fully, and Clarke suddenly felt the energy coming off him in waves. “Anya detects weakness. And if she doesn’t like you…” he shook his head. “No chance with Woods. Show them you want this, Clarke.”

“I do…but…why are you helping me?” Clarke queried, genuinely surprised. That came out a bit less graciously than she'd hoped for.

Lincoln smirked, looking down at the coffee. “I might just need your help sometime. Oh, and I like coffee.”

Clarke felt his smile was contagious. More than that, however, she needed to show that she was a force to be reckoned with. She shared his grin, and swore she heard Gustus grunt something in disapproval. “How do you take your coffee?”

Lincoln let out a deep laugh. “Black.”

Clarke thanked him when he let her out first, and even handed him the extra that she brought.

Lincoln. That was an ally she desperately needed.

Clarke, with renewed vigor, suddenly felt determined to succeed. For the Blakes. For Raven. For Monty, and hell, even Murphy. She’d survive. It was her mantra.

* * *

 

She’d even survive this godforsaken interview with Anya.

Clarke watched through bright cerulean eyes as she felt Anya scrutinize every inch of Clarke’s body. Originally, she hadn’t known what to wear. Her scrubs? That felt ridiculous. She settled on casual wear, the jeans Raven told her made her ass look “out of this world”, (accompanied by Clarke’s eye roll each time) and a simple black shirt with her white work coat over it. At least she maintained some semblance of professionalism.

Anya eyed the paper tray in her hand. “You working as a part-time delivery girl?” she challenged. She wanted to get a rise out of Clarke, to test her mettle.

“If you want one, feel free.” Clarke leveled with her. “You don’t have to be shy, Anya.” She wore a shit eating smirk for half a second, and relished in her small uncertain victory over the slightly older, pretentious woman.

“Look, if _I_ don’t like you, then _Lexa_ doesn’t like you.” Anya rose from her chair, suddenly heated. She loomed over Clarke. “And if _Lexa_ doesn’t like you-”

“Pray tell.” A smooth voice interrupted Anya’s yelling. Clarke and Anya both whipped around to see the brunette in question, leaning against the doorframe. Lexa’s black blouse and heels accentuated her threateningly calm demeanor, and Clarke had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Lexa aroused strange feelings in her. It was like seeing the angel of death: tragically beautiful, accompanied by fear of what she was capable of.

Clarke’s jaw was unhinged, and Lexa noticed with a brow raised. She was _so_ not getting the job.

“Lexa, I-”Anya began, but found that her scare tactic was completely interrupted. Lexa firmly held the reins here, that much was abundantly clear.

“Anya, take the call on line three, won’t you? It’s Kane again.” Lexa spoke stoically, empathetically. “Tell him that negotiation isn’t on the table.” As Anya passed her, she bowed her head in a quick thanks, and shut the door behind her.

Clarke swallowed the thick lump in her throat, and she was sure it was painfully obvious that she was uncomfortable.

Lexa eyed Clarke just like Anya had, but something was different about Lexa’s gaze. The way she raked Clarke over with her eyes, the way she just so subtly licked her lips when she did so. It was all terrifying to Clarke. And a little bit of something else. She couldn’t quite place it.

“You brought coffee?” Lexa eyed the cups with a disillusioned glance.

“I did.” Clarke nodded, pushing the tray to Lexa. “The one in the front is for you.”

Lexa glanced at her quizzically. “Is there a difference?” Her voice was icy.

Clarke looked at her with the expression of someone who’d just been struck across the face. “Of course. I literally spent two hours on the phone with your various secretaries here trying to figure out how you take your coffee.”

Lexa glanced at the cup she’d just picked. The name Lexa was inscribed on the white edge, with a heart after the last letter. She glanced up at Clarke.

“Well you must’ve been rather infuriated when you found out I take my coffee black.” Her lip curled in amusement, a rare sign of pleasure from the stoic girl. “That’s a lot of work for someone who might not even get the job.” There was something to her voice that took the sting out of her words. She was testing Clarke.

“Where I’m from, people just say thank you.” Clarke retorted, straightening out in her chair. She just _knew_ that Lexa was being purposefully dry.

“That’s funny.” Lexa twirled a sharp looking letter opener around her nimble fingers, leaning back in her seat. Her eyes never left Clarke’s as her deft hands increased speed. She absently gave Clarke a once-over. “I don’t recall being a smartass as part of your job description.”

Clarke’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped for the umpteenth time that day. Lexa was _definitely_ physically trained like Bellamy and Octavia. Was that a threat? “To be fair, Miss Woods….” Clarke began, very sharply enunciating the ‘s’ in her name. Lexa’s eyes fell to her lips, and tension filled the small distance between them. “You didn’t exactly give me a job description.” Her smirk was perhaps a bit too much, but she felt pretty badass.

“Dr. Griffin.” Lexa twirled the letter opener one more time before sending it flying into the desk beside Clarke’s hand. The steel was buried into the wood, and Clarke, to her credit, refrained from flinching at all. It was one hell of a pissing match. “I only need to know a few, choice things about you.”

Clarke watched her, eyes alight with adrenaline. They weren’t even doing anything. How the hell was Lexa eliciting this kind of reaction from her?

“Firstly, I can tell you’re a dedicated worker.” Lexa eyed the coffee cup. She even brought it to her lips, never breaking eye-contact with Clarke as she took in the steaming liquid. “Secondly: are you loyal?”

Clarke was taken aback. Why would she be asking that? Did she know? Had she been too obvious? What-

“I ask this, because…I’ve had some infidelity with my clients and personnel in the past.” Lexa admitted, eyes scanning Clarke for any indication that she would be a similar issue.

Clarke forced her gaze up from Anya’s wooden desk. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Good,” Lexa smirked, leaning forward. Clarke suddenly felt very, very small. “And finally…” she eyed Clarke’s mouth, which was slightly parted in anticipation and worry. She was so close. “Are you a _good_ girl?”

“I…pff… _What_?”  Clarke sputtered, swearing that she saw a glint of suggestive amusement in Lexa’s eyes. She was _toying_ with her. And was that heat Clarke felt? Was she being objectified? This was a gross misrepresentation of her interests, she-

Lexa cut off her internal thought process. “Are you subservient?” she pressed, elaborating on her prior vagueness. “Willing to do whatever is necessary for the good of the company and its interests?”

Clarke heaved a sigh of…was it _disappointment_? Did she _enjoy_ Lexa’s interrogation? How backwards, how perverted…wait … ‘ _No…_ ’  Clarke reassured herself. It was certainly relief. She was _relieved_ …right?

“I…yes, of course. Anything for you and the company. Lex-Miss Woods.” Clarke attempted to regain her composure, and she felt her heart rate slow. Lexa looked mildly amused. She was in.

“Well, welcome.” Lexa shifted, rising to shake Clarke’s hand. Clarke extended her reach, trying not to look as shaky as she felt in the moment.

“Your office is between mine and Anya’s.” She jerked her head to the left. There was a door, sure enough, joining Anya and Lexa’s offices. It had no plaque, but it looked as if someone tore it off. “Come.” Her voice was commanding. Clarke understood the nickname.

Clarke brushed past Anya’s desk, smiling in an awkwardly thankful way when Lexa held the door to her office open for her. She stepped back in shock. There was no desk in the corner, no beautiful wooden bookshelf filled with various articles and books like Clarke had imagined.

What there was, however, was the apparent steel table and bed in the center of the room, complete with cabinets upon cabinets of what appeared to be drugs, surgical equipment, and a sink. Sterilization equipment lined the back wall.

“You can’t be serious…” Clarke trailed off. “Is this an-”

“An operating theatre, yes.” Lexa leaned against the doorframe, much like her first entrance that morning.

“I can’t…I don’t…” Clarke shook her head. “The sanitation, the legitimacy…This is illegal, I’m sure.” Clarke’s brow furrowed.

Lexa’s features softened, almost in an expression of pity. “You’ll hardly be performing open heart surgery here, Clarke. It’s just a…precaution.”

“Precaution? For what exactly?” Clarke whipped around, facing the brunette with a newfound vigor. Deep inside, she knew. Injuries. Little things they wanted to keep hushed from the hospital, likely due to Ark Hospital’s hostile stance.

“I thought you said you were subservient.” Lexa commented dryly, her façade back up again.

“I am, but _this_..” Clarke trailed off.

“You’ll just act as a physician, mostly. A few check ups here and there, mostly paperwork. You can participate in the clinical drug studies on level three.” Lexa instructed her calmly, as if assuring her that there was no harm to taking this deal with the devil herself. Clarke felt compelled to trust her, for some insane reason.

“Fine.” Clarke sighed. She suddenly felt very responsible. She hadn’t felt like that since she’d left home at fifteen.

“Lexa, I-” A voice interrupted the heavy gaze both Clarke and Lexa shared as they both turned around, surprised.

Lincoln was leaning in the doorframe, Anya at his heels.

“Oh, sorry.” Lincoln murmured, eyeing Clarke with a curious gaze. “We didn’t mean to interrupt you, but-”

“There’s a…situation that demands your attention, Ms. Woods.” It was Anya who made the declarative statement.

“Anything you want to say, you can say in front of Dr. Griffin.” Lexa spoke with an air of finality.

Anya then hurled something at Lexa in an indecipherable language, to Clarke’s ears, and all she could do was watch as Lexa’s eyes widened and she quickly stepped aside, following Anya out the door with a few words to Lincoln.

Clarke watched with a frown as she was left almost all alone, save for Lincoln, whose reflection showed in the shine of the white, colorless floors. The room smelled faintly of anti-septic.

“What the hell was that?” Clarke asked, watching as Lincoln took a step into her new offices, giving out a low whistle.

“What was what?” Lincoln played dumb, eyeing the room with a swivel of his head. “Nice digs, by the way.”

“That…. language.” Clarke tried again.

Lincoln looked amused. “We call it Trigedasleng.”

Clarke’s brows shot up. “You have your own _language_?”  

Lincoln shrugged. “Lexa is…protective of her assets. And her people. It helps maintain private affairs…private.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes, suddenly feeling like a small child, jealous that she was left out of their private affairs.  She knew she had to play the part of the curious newcomer, or else she might seem suspicious. And Lincoln looked quite capable of murdering her in more ways than one.

“What kind of business affairs would you need to invent a whole damn language for to keep quiet?” Clarke pressed earnestly. She knew damn well it was gang activity. She’d just wished Bellamy and Octavia were smart enough to do the same.

“I’ve said too much.” Lincoln put his hands up in surrender. “Enjoy your time here, Dr. Griffin.”

“You say that like I’m only going to be here for a short while.” Clarke followed him out the doorway, noting that Lexa’s office blinds were drawn and the door was locked.

“No one in that office lasts, Dr.” Lincoln shrugged.

“What…who was the last person-” before Clarke could finish, Lincoln shook his head.

“Clarke.” Lincoln turned, wearing his typical relaxed smile. “Don’t worry. _Chil Au_.” With that he turned and left into Lexa’s office, knocking twice, very specifically, before slipping in and locking the door behind him.

One of Lexa’s secretaries told Clarke she was free to leave for the day, and that she could start officially the next day. She was guided out of the building without another word.

* * *

 

“And there’s the lady of the hour!” Bellamy cheered as Clarke stepped into his office. Raven was speaking to Octavia in the corner, both stopping their conversations as soon as Clarke came in.

Bellamy’s office overlooked D.C. as much as Lexa’s did. It was ironic, how much they had in common. For everything Bellamy claimed to hate about Lexa, he presented in his own way. But Lexa wasn’t Clarke’s family. Bellamy was. So she forgave each and every little flaw in return for love, company, housing, and support. So far, all Lexa had offered was intimidation.

Clarke watched the lights of the distant freeway dance about Bellamy’s window panes, wondering if she could be anywhere less mortifying but remain within a twenty-five-mile radius.

 “How’d it go, princess?” Octavia chimed in, approaching Clarke with a wide grin. “You get into her good graces?”

“Or her pants?” Raven chimed in, smirking. She came to sit on one of the chairs across Bellamy’s desk, making herself comfortable. She patted the vacant seat beside her, and Clarke obediently sat.

“Come on, spill.” Bellamy leaned forward eagerly.

Clarke took a deep breath. She had to force a smile, it felt simply unnatural to feel happy about the day’s events. She was in the midst of a gang war, was she not? Some discomfort was a given. But this wasn’t about her actions. Something about Lexa felt…strange.

“I got the job!” Clarke announced in a pseudo-triumphant tone, leaning forward to high-five Raven, which hurt, while Bellamy and Octavia grinned at each other.

“I knew you had it in you, Clarke.” Bellamy nodded. “You’ve got your father’s genes for greatness in you, you know that?”

Clarke looked bashful, if not a tad upset, and Octavia elbowed Bellamy in the side. He cleared his throat. Any more about Clarke’s deceased father and she’d be in tears.

“What…is the job, by the way?” Octavia asked, scrutinizing Clarke with sharp eyes.

“A doctor…kind of.” Clarke shrugged. “Honestly, I still don’t know. And no one told me anything. And there’s this kind of bitchy receptionist…oh, I mean, shareholder….Nia, I think.” Clarke couldn’t help the words that poured out. It felt like she’d finally accomplished something.

“Oh no.” Bellamy shook his head in faux terror. “Should we sick Raven on her?”

Clarke glanced at Raven’s seemingly normal leg, knowing the damage her metal implants could do, the one she’d received after being shot. She quickly shook her head, turning white as a sheet, causing Raven to laugh out loud. “No!” She recovered. “It’s uh…all under control.”

For some reason she thought of Raven getting to Lexa, but it wasn’t terror that filled her. For some reason, she thought Lexa could hold her own. It secretly gave her peace of mind.

“Anything else?” Octavia pressed. Clarke was starting to grow weary of the interrogations she’d been enduring all day.

“Um…The assistant head of operations…that’s another girl named Anya. She terrifies me.” Clarke clarified.

Octavia nodded. “Yeah, she’s a real bitch. Lexa’s lieutenant and partner in crime, according to our intel.”

Clarke nodded, blinking for a moment. “That sounds about right. And then there’s the ‘head of security’…or, that’s how he introduced himself anyway.”

“Lincoln.” Octavia responded instantly, eyes narrowing.

Raven, Bellamy, and Clarke all shot Octavia a curious look at her rapid fire response.

“What?” Octavia shrugged. “You guys need to read Monty’s files more carefully.”

“Clarke…did you….learn anything useful?” Bellamy inquired. The fire in his eyes was deadly.

_They have their own fucking language. Trigedasleng. I’m pretty sure Lincoln is a killer. Lexa leaves for monthly trips. Her family is going through a ‘hard time’. Gustus wants to slaughter me alive. Lexa is playing games with me…she’s definitely hiding something…_

Clarke shook her inner musings. “Not yet.” She replied cautiously. “I’m new, so…not much. But I’ll get you something substantial Bell, I promise.”

Bellamy looked assured. “You always do, Griff.” He tightened his tie and resumed typing at his computer.

“Raven.” He called her over to look at the screen. “Another shipment. There.”

He pointed to the screen and she nodded. “That one’s ours.”

Clarke, once again feeling like the odd one out, stepped back and grabbed her purse. “I think I’m going to head home and watch some Netflix. It’s been a crazy day.” She announced, watching as Bellamy and Octavia nodded absently.

She left without another word.

* * *

 

Art was Clarke’s escape. A ritual that made her feel whole, safe, and protected from the day’s demons and struggles. Without the hospital hours, she found that she had ample time to dedicate to capturing her surroundings.

Clarke never willingly _chose_ what she wanted to draw. It just…came to her. Her surprise was unmatched then, when she finally stepped back from her finished sketch, to see that she’d drawn her so called “commander”.  And Clarke had gotten creative.

Her professional black blouse in reality was replaced with Clarke’s fictitious rendition of a low cut tank top. The letter opener she’d been twirling earlier was replaced with a knife. Her immaculate eyeliner was smudged delicately like a mask to hide her inner expressions and emotions.

She didn’t look like a threatening CEO anymore. She looked like gangster. Clarke shivered at the intensity of the false gaze on the textured paper before her. She felt so strange that she threw it on her desk and backed up, completely surprised.

When had she started drawing Lexa? When did she feel intimate enough to trace the curvature of her lips, hips, and locks of brown hair? She felt wrong, as if she were idolizing the… _enemy_. She glanced down at the graphite staining her fingers as if it were crimson blood.

She felt compelled to right her course before her emotions, _damn them_ , led her completely astray. She snatched her cellphone from her back pocket and clicked on one of her speed dial contacts.

“Hey Clarke!” Monty’s voice filled the speaker, ecstatic to hear how her day went.

“Monty…” Clark fell back onto her bed with a sigh. “I’m gonna need you to send me every file you have on Lexa Woods.”

* * *

 

“Okay Clarke.” Clarke spoke to herself as she faced herself in the mirror. “You can do this. She’s just a girl. Well a lady. She’s 25. She’s a trained killer. She speaks four or five languages. One of the wealthiest and most eligible bachelorettes in the DC area. Rubs shoulders with senators and other politicians. Likely sells them high end drugs. Responsible for the deaths of several of our people. Finn. Well, he was collateral damage…” she trailed off, shaking her head. He was ‘collateral damage’. He was a fucking human being. Her boyfriend, at some point. Raven’s.

She should never have read the files. They were tainted with brutal honesty that shook Clarke to her core. The things she’d read. The atrocities both sides committed. The length of this decades long family feud that left the Woods and Blake family in tatters. Her father’s legacy. Everything was so entangled. She felt nauseated for the umpteenth time.

She needed to act normal.

* * *

 

Clarke swept her blonde locks behind her shoulder as she braced herself for her first encounter of the day with Lexa Woods. She wanted, no…needed to make a good impression. She needed Lexa to trust her. To let her into that inner circle that knew every detail of her life and the company plans.

Clarke knocked on her office door, heart beating rapidly.

When the door opened, it was not the brunette she expected, leaning against Lexa’s office door. Instead, it was Anya, who looked vaguely amused at Clarke’s expression of terror and confusion.

“Dr. Griffin…” Anya drawled, smirking. “Good. I need you for some… _errands_ I have to run.”

Clarke was a god damned doctor. Not some lackey to run errands for people who received far less schooling, and certainly not for someone with Anya’s attitude.

“I…where’s Le- Miss Woods?” Clarke corrected herself awkwardly, frowning uncontrollably.

“Miss Woods is attending to…personal affairs.” Anya smiled, and Clarke swore, it was evil. “I am filling her position until she returns.”

Clarke felt light headed. Fucking perfect. Anya was in control, and there wasn’t anyone to defend her. Not that Lexa would, but…maybe.

“How long will she be gone?” Clarke needed to know how dire her fate was. Maybe, with Lexa gone, she could do some quality snooping. That was, if Anya would quit riding her ass. Which was proving to be increasingly unlikely with each passing second.

“Three weeks.” Anya grinned.

Clarke’s heart dropped to her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments on here and many on Tumblr. I enjoy hearing your opinions and criticisms.  
> I apologize for the chapter length, dividing this section was a bit tricky. I know it was slow, but we still are in the exhibition stages. Updates will typically be twice a week, once I've decided on a fixed day of the week. 
> 
> For all of you who mentioned interest in Beta-ing, please direct a message to me at: Effortlessly-Opulent on Tumblr. I'd be more than happy to work something out there. (There is also story art and quotes, extras, etc over on Tumblr!)
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know what I could do to improve! Many thanks!


	3. Be Careful, She's Dangerous

Never, in Clarke’s life, did the passage of a mere twenty-one days take what seemed like decades. She was practically seconds away from getting on her knees and calling Bellamy, just to tell him that his grand scheme was a bust.

Anya wouldn’t let up. It was hazing, torture, whatever cruel name there was for it. It started out with the coffee runs. Anya would send Clarke Griffin, a god damned surgeon in waiting, to fetch coffee for her. Sometimes twice a day. Clarke _knew_ there was a perfectly good machine in the lounge. Then it was the paperwork. Mountains upon mountains of what was essentially busy work, stacked high upon her desk every morning.

Clarke worked diligently at first, hoping there was something in the files she was reading- anything to help Bellamy get an advantage. And then she realized she was going through old clinical trials, billing reports, and overall trash.

And that’s when Clarke realized that Anya didn’t just hate her. She didn’t trust her either.

Anya was playing her, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

There were no patients, no injured mercenaries like she’d thought up in her head. Maybe she was watching a few too many thrillers. God, real sabotage- financial, strategic- was _so_ boring. Clarke felt as if her head was emptied and its remnants were nothing but negative thoughts and profanities that she bit back.

She hadn’t reported to Bellamy or Octavia yet, because she had nothing to report. Every day was a new, lifeless void. Clarke used to save lives. Now she watched her own tick away with every passing second the great clock on her office wall would emit .

Clarke would, ashamedly , doze off every now and then. Sometimes she was able to snoop around, but Lincoln was always hanging around during the day, vigilant eyes outside Anya’s office door. Sometimes Clarke had to wonder if they were screwing. Not dating of course, because that would require a soul, and Anya was strongly lacking in that department. But looks? Sure.

Clarke passed her little moments of inactivity with the strangest, vaguest dreams she’d ever had in her life. All of them involved a certain brunette C.E.O by the name of Lexa Woods.

Clarke couldn’t shake the thoughts of her that now plagued her mind. Everywhere she looked, she saw the name Woods, or Grounder Corp. And _those files._ She closed her eyes every now and then and imagined Lexa wielding a knife like she’d handled that letter opener during their first interview.

Sometimes, she imagined Lexa driving it into Finn’s chest.

She usually woke up from those with a jolt, sending papers flying. It was risky business, having night terrors in the middle of the work day.

But Clarke’s night terrors were the one constant in her life. She wasn’t willing to let them go.

Clarke nearly jumped out of her own skin when she heard a knocking at the door. She rose, quickly, to see Lincoln leaning nonchalantly against the whitewashed wall.

“Dr. Griffin.” He nodded respectfully, eyes immediately searching her. Clarke guessed that he was trained to look for threats.

“Hei.” Clarke tried to put a little spin on her accent, trying to mimic the way she’d heard Lincoln speak to Anya outside in the hall.

“Very good, Clarke.” Lincoln’s gaze softened a bit. He leaned forward, handing Clarke a stack of what had to be at least two-hundred paper packets, put together. “Your Trigedasleng is coming along…for someone who spies on others talking instead of just learning.” He added the last part with a bit of humor.

“This must be my punishment.” Clarke grunted as she took the papers with a flick of her wrist, tossing them on the already encompassing pile that ate nearly three quarters of her desk. “How could I possibly learn it when no one is here to teach me?”

Lincoln smirked. “Maybe it’s not yours to know.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “I showed you how to suture a wound, in case you ever needed it.”

Lincoln bowed his head in mock appreciation. “And I am eternally grateful, oh Clarke of the Ark.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at the mention of Ark Hospital. It’d been a while since she’d actually done some good, all thanks to this ridiculous circus act they called a gang. Where was the action? The intrigue? She was _sure_ he didn’t get that cut on his forehead playing football like he said he did.

“Who knows?” Lincoln piped up. “Maybe Woods will teach you.”

Clarke’s eyes lit up. Lexa was returning. “Wait, she’s back?” She couldn’t help the excitement that flooded her once monotonous tone, and Lincoln noticed with a raised brow.

“No.” He shook his head. “But she will be, eventually. Although, she probably won’t even remember she hired you. She has a lot on her plate.”

Clarke’s interest was genuinely piqued. “Yeah? With what?”

Lincoln shook his head, folding one solid arm over the other. His tattoos were standing out them, going around the circumference of his arms like snakes wrapped around stone. Anya had good taste, if that really was true.

Clarke sighed. She sat back down in her chair with a huff. She’d taken to just leaving her lab coat on the chair because of how little she needed it. She’d also taken to wearing jeans and a tank top to work. It was the epitome of unprofessionalism.

But hey, at least she looked good.

And of course, Lexa wasn’t there to see it. Not that it mattered. It’s not like she dressed for Lexa.

“You need a drink.” Lincoln commented, his dark eyes searching hers.

“You offering?” Clarke didn’t meet his gaze. Instead she focused on her boots, going so far as to fiddle with the laces.

“No, I’m on duty tonight.” Lincoln replied apologetically. “But you should go out, Clarke. You look tired.”

“Gee, thanks.” Clarke responded, trying to ignore the fact that she may have had bags under her eyes, due to a strong decrease in sleeping hours, and a surprising spike in art pieces. All of which featured Lexa fucking Woods.

Clarke suddenly got a terribly dim idea. She could follow Lincoln. Find out what he was doing for Anya, and by extension, Lexa. It wasn’t an _awful_ idea. “Know any good bars?” Clarke tried to cover up.

Lincoln nodded. “There’s a good one not too far from here. Niylah’s.”

Clarkes eyes widened. Wasn’t that where Octavia had gotten into a bar fight?

Lincoln smirked. “Cool people there. In fact, this one girl got so shitfaced that she clocked me right here.” He pointed to his chiseled jaw.

Clarke’s jaw dropped. Octavia hadn’t mentioned _that._

Lincoln, mistaking her hesitation for fear, quickly reassured her. “That was uh…under different circumstances. The owner, Niylah…she’s really nice. And a pacifist, I promise. You know what? Tell her Lincoln sent you. She’ll probably give you a beer on the house.”

“I don’t hear working.” Anya’s cold, cutting voice shook Lincoln and Clarke, as they both turned their heads in surprise. She was silent.

“What does work sound like, Anya?” Lincoln asked teasingly, and Anya rolled her eyes.

Clarke resisted the urge to complain. If she said that, she’d be dead.

“Silence?” Anya suggested with a shrug, turning to close her office door behind her.

Clarke rolled her eyes as soon as she was out of sight, rapidly firing off an unladylike middle finger in Anya’s general direction. “What does that sound like, Anya?” She muttered as she turned her attention back to the endless pile of dread on her desk.

Lincoln’s chuckle was the last thing she heard as she was once more enveloped into a case study.

* * *

 

“Please, Raven.” Clarke begged her for what must’ve been the thirtieth time that evening. “I need to unwind. Plus, you’re not even running any jobs for Bell, so please please _please_ come with me to Niylah’s.”

Raven eyed Clarke up and down, taking in her tired look. She’d been at filing those stupid papers until seven, and all she wanted was one night out.

Raven scoffed. “You buying, doc?” Her red lipstick brought out her red jacket and Clarke envied her ability to look so badass and yet so well put together.

“Fine, yeah. What’s the big deal anyway?” She narrowed her eyes at her dark haired friend. “You never say no to a good time.”

Raven rose from her seat on Clarke’s couch, shaking her head hesitantly. “That’s just it, Clarke. I don’t see us having a good time there.”

“Why?” Clarke demanded. “Lincoln told me that I should go-”       

Raven put up a hand, cutting her off. “Wait. Lincoln? As in, big bald bastard? Tribal tatts?”

Clarke frowned at Raven’s less than kind description. Lincoln was handsome, and maybe her only friend at the hell Lexa called a business. “Um, I guess?”

“He’s Lexa’s muscle. Anywhere he goes, there’s got to be fifty of his buddies. Niylah’s is right on their turf…the west side. We own the east, remember?”

Clarke bit her lip. “I guess we shouldn’t really be seen together.” She kicked at the floor dejectedly.

Raven looked guilty. “Well…maybe we could just chill here for a bit? You could show me your art?”

Instances of Lexa with less than conservative clothing filled Clarke’s mind, and she immediately shook her head, laughing rather awkwardly. “Huh….maybe later?” She really needed to burn those sketches. And paintings.

“Well, we could order some pizza and just-” Raven’s secondary suggestion was cut off by Clarke, who started ushering her towards the door.

“Nah, I think I’m going to go out.” She replied.

“To Niylah’s?” Raven inquired. “Clarke, be careful.”

“I’m one of them now, right?” Clarke added a wink when she felt Raven’s gaze boring into her own. “I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, that’s what Octavia said.” Raven rolled her eyes. “Listen…are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” Clarke replied, smiling nervously. “See you in a few, yeah?”

“Oh…kay?” Raven shrugged, pulling Clarke in for a quick hug. “Get some rest!” She called over her shoulder, but Clarke was already halfway through shutting the door behind her.

She ran up to her bedroom, eyeing herself in the mirror that made up her closet wall. If she was going to blend in with the grounders, she needed to change.

* * *

 

“Oh my god.” Clarke looked at herself in the mirror. She was clad in black. A lot of black. She donned her favorite black leather jacket and worn combat boots. She looked like she belonged in a biker gang.

Lexa was her inspiration when she applied a thick line of black eyeliner to each eye. She hadn’t quite captured the intoxicating look, but she was starting to think that was more of a personal opinion. She looked dangerous.

She turned out the lights in her apartment, locked the doors vigilantly, and hailed a cab. She was going to get some information tonight, one way or another. Niylah’s was her ticket to success, and the fastest way out of the hellhole of a job she’d acquired under Anya.

She was supposed to be playing the part of a spy, was she not? A bar full of the so called “grounders” was bound to have information, maybe even on Lincoln’s whereabouts. She knew he was doing something important for Anya, or Lexa, or whoever the hell was in charge.

It was time to make a move.

“Where to?” Her driver asked from over the glass partition, and she gave him the address wearily. She hoped Raven was wrong about the risk she was running.

Clarke watched the street lights reflect off the pavement and dance against the backdrop of the traffic lights her taxi sped past. She leaned against the window, trying desperately not to think of what would happen if she came out of Niylah’s empty handed.

The bar was just like Clarke had envisioned it. Off a busy street on the west side, filled with what Clarke could only assume were Lexa’s people. The streets were freezing, so Clarke had made quite an entrance pushing the double doors open.

She was lucky that there was noise to fill in what would’ve been an incredibly painful silence. The noise consisted of a few conversations here and there, but mostly music and some game on the flat screen in the back corner wall.

It was an elegant bar, to say the least. Wide, spanning windows gave it a seat of prestige over the streets it looked over, the lights dimmed for added effect. Clarke wondered how it could possibly be a gang joint.

Then she saw the people. Lexa’s people, presumably. And they were as hardy and resolute as Lincoln. There were men and women of varying ages, the great bulk of them likely in their twenties and thirties. Clarke even spotted a few teenagers, wondering how the hell they were even allowed in. Then her eyes fell to a couple of city cops, still in uniform, sharing a few beers at a round table towards the back. Grounders.

Just like Bellamy, Lexa had her people in every rank and level of authority.

And they were all eyeing her rather dirtily.

Except the barkeep. She was a taller blonde, with pointed features and a knowing gaze. She motioned Clarke over, and while the eyes were still upon her, some of the tensions settled.

Clarke noticed that she was beautiful.

“Clarke?” Niylah asked before Clarke could take a seat at the open stool in front of her.

Clarke looked genuinely surprised. “You’re Niylah, then. Lincoln mentioned me?” She guessed.

“Mhmm.” Niylah offered her a soft smile. “Welcome to the family.” She stuck her hand out to Clarkes, and suddenly Clarke felt very ill shaking it. Family. She was ruining someone’s family.

And she might have had a Freudian slip. “F…family?” Clarke coughed a little.

Niylah tilted her head curiously. “You’re new here. But yeah, we’re like a big family. Thanks to Lexa.”

Clarke glanced around her, noticing that some of the hostile gazes wore off. “So…” she blew a breath awkwardly. “What does the…uh…family do for fun?”

Niylah averted her gaze and turned to grab Clarke a drink. “We drink.” She replied, somewhat stiffly. So no one was going to mention the fact that they were a criminal organization. Fantastic.

“Okay.” Clarke nodded, forcing a smile. “How, um, do you know Lincoln?”

Niylah turned, sliding the pint to Clarke, along with a coaster. “Like I said, we all know each other from work. This is where they gather. And…” she motioned to the sign on the wall that bore her name in neon lit letters. “I kind of own the place.”

Clarke nodded, taking a casual sip. She had to take things slow, keep her head in the game.

“This is a nice bar. Nicer than most in the area.” Clarke commented shyly at first.

Niylah smiled, and Clarke took it as a thank you. “Lexa Woods can only be seen entering establishments of…class.” The reply sounded somewhat rehearsed.  “So you’re a doctor?” Niylah asked, leaning against the counter. She motioned for another waitress to take a few drinks out to the cop’s table in the back, Clarke noticed.

“I used to be, before I started working for Anya.” Clarke blurted out dryly. She internally kicked herself.

Niylah let out a beautiful chuckle, tilting her head back. Clarke felt something warm flutter inside her when she heard it.

“I get it.” She nodded, crossing her arms. Her smile never left her lips as she eyed Clarke curiously. “She can be tough. But everyone here is. You get used to it.”

Clarke turned her gaze to a couple of girls playing darts behind her. With deadly accuracy, she noted. Who the hell were these people? And if Lincoln was one of them, what the hell was he up to?

Niylah nudged her arm, and Clarke dropped her gaze to Niylah’s hand on her bicep in surprise.

“You should play. Get to know them.” Her advice seemed unlikely.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “No one is rearing to talk to _me_.” She replied, feeling a sudden heat radiate off her. “They must know something about me that I don’t.”

Niylah looked away guiltily, and then returned her gaze to Clarke, but instead focused on her lips. Clarke didn’t know where to look.

“Well, I would love to get to know you Clarke…” She trailed off, waiting for a name.

“Griffin.” Clarke replied, downing the rest of her beer. Maybe a new friend was a good thing? Maybe Niylah would slip and say something important. Maybe she’d tell her where Lexa was- No. Clarke was done thinking about Lexa. Niylah was perfectly good, and right there for her to enjoy. She intended to do so.

“Another?” Niylah smiled.

“I tip well.” Clarke promised, and her voice was raspier and confident than she’d intended.

Niylah raised a brow and matched Clarke’s smirk.

Suddenly the evening had turned around for the better.

* * *

 

Clarke’s head was swimming. She and Niylah had been talking for at least an hour and a half. With each passing minute, they grew closer. Niylah joked about a couple of bad customers she’d had, and Clarke told her about a couple of crotchety patients.

Maybe she’d had a few too many.

They talked about anything except Lexa, and it was glorious. That’s what Clarke kept mentally repeating to herself, over and over again.

Clarke had been in the midst of telling Niylah about her penchant for drawing, when she thought she saw someone familiar burst in through the back door.

She couldn’t mistake Gustus for anyone else. He was too massive, and the way he carried himself was unmistakable. Behind Gustus was Anya, wearing the same outfit Clarke had seen her in at work.

Gustus stepped in through the back alley, making a beeline to another door in the back that read “employees only”. Anya followed him, her head down, a folder in her arms. Clarke could still hear Niylah saying something to her.

But everything froze when _she_ walked in, shoulders straight, jaw set tightly, a typical stoic mask over her striking features. There she was, the woman who had been haunting Clarke’s dreams and waking thoughts for nearly the past month.

“Maybe you could draw me-” Niylah’s suggestive tone was cut off by Clarke rapidly standing.

Which was then followed by an almost totally embarrassing buckling of the knees.

It would have been completely embarrassing, had Niylah not caught her arm in a steady grip. Accompanied by her grip, however, was a shrill cry of worry. “Clarke!”

That certainly drew Lexa’s attention. The brunette, who’d been walking uniformly behind Anya, glanced up in surprise.

It was a split second, maybe less, but Clarke’s gaze locked with Lexa’s. Lexa saw her. Clarke knew it. Her stoic façade was replaced with one worry, before her face completely disappeared from view. She’d entered the private back room, leaving Clarke wobbling in Niylah’s grip.

“That was…” Clarke spoke slowly, perhaps out of confusion. Niylah mistook it for intoxication.

“Clarke, should I call you a cab?” She asked concernedly.

Clarke shook her head. “No, no…I…uh….Thank you.” She released herself from Niylah’s hold and turned to face her. “I think I have to use the restroom. Excuse me.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to regain what was left of her composure before heading towards the general area of the backroom. She just needed to get close enough to hear what was going on. She didn’t have to see Lexa. Just to hear her plans.

As she neared the door, she glanced down at her boots. Her steps were decently in line for as many drinks as she had. Before she could mentally cheer herself on, her gaze was met by two hard brown eyes.

Lincoln was standing in front of the door, arms crossed.

“You…look…like a bouncer.” Clarke finally got out, happy not to have slurred her words.

Lincoln shook his head. “I see you took my advice.” He glanced at Niylah, who had busied herself at the bar since Clarke made her way over.

“I need to…” Clarke blinked. “Talk to Lexa.” She couldn’t hear anything that was going on with the music and the chatter. She needed to get herself in that room, one way or another.

Lincoln raised a brow quizzically. “She’s on business.”

“At a bar?” Clarke retorted sharply.

“I… Yes.” Lincoln sighed. “Clarke, mind your own affairs. Please.”

“You knew she was coming back tonight and you didn’t tell me?” Clarke almost whined. Standing was getting harder. She was so exhausted from work, and the drinks, and pretending she had no clue what was going on when she knew everything about their criminal activity.

“Why does it matter so much?” Lincoln challenged. “You’ll see her on Monday, same as everyone else.”

Clarke bit her lip. She wouldn’t admit her personal fascination with the woman. She also wouldn’t admit her duty to spy on her work affairs. She was caught in an odd position.

It was then that she noticed a little dry blood, crusted on Lincoln’s forehead, where his wound had reopened.

“Hey…” She brought her hand up to inspect his forehead. “What happened here?”

Lincoln shrugged off her hand. “I uh…must’ve bumped it coming out of the car.”

 _‘Or doing Lexa’s dirty work.’_ Clarke thought to herself dryly. “Let me see if there’s a first aid kit so I can-”

“ _Clarke_.” Lincoln cut her off. “ _Gon houm_.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Clarke tried to fight off a wave of nausea. “I don’t need to _go home_.”

“Good job, you’ve been practicing.” Lincoln smirked. He turned her around, where she saw the ever inviting symbol of the restrooms. “But seriously, go. I’ll tell Niylah to get you a cab.”

Clarke realized there was no way in hell she was getting any information out of that room.

She relented.

* * *

 

It was with a roaring head, and after downing several Advil tablets, that Clarke forced herself with all the willpower she possessed, to go into work on Saturday and tame the massive piles of casework that Anya had piled up for her.

She knew it had been busy work, and that it meant nothing, but she wanted to see the look on Lexa’s…no, Anya, she corrected herself. Anya’s face, when she saw what she’d accomplished.

After a painfully slow morning of hangover food and a shower, during which Clarke could barely keep her eyes open, Clarke had simply thrown on the leather jacket from the previous night and applied very minimal makeup before walking to work, hoping the brisk air would sober her further.

It did, a little.

Clarke knew that a few aides from the lower offices were working, so the building was quiet, but very much alive. Clarke silently slipped into the elevator, clutching her head the whole time.

That was at ten. It was currently two-thirty, and Clarke had finally finished going through every single document that graced her now cleaned desk.

She laid her head down just for a few moments, arms outstretched to the edge of the desk. She welcomed the warmth of sleep, the rest she so desperately needed.

She didn’t notice the person standing over her.

“Was Niylah out of business cards?” A dry, low, velvety voice remarked.

Clarke shot up, realizing her wrist was in the possession of whoever’s voice had just roused her. Her eyes adjusted to Lexa’s face, clearly in view since her brunette mane was tied behind her in a ponytail. She was sporting a cut across her cheek, with an average depth. It looked painful. Clarke tried not to stare. What had she been doing with Lincoln, since he had his wound reopened as well? Where had they been?

Lexa’s green eyes flared with their usual inferno, and Clarke’s entire body heated up very quickly. Especially her wrist, where Lexa’s long, slender fingers were wrapped.

Clarke then noticed that seven digits, plus an area code, and the name “Niylah” was written in sharpie on her arm. She hadn’t noticed that in the shower, or she would’ve at least made the effort to transfer it to a less…public display.

“Ms. Woods.” Clarke eyed her with surprise. She took her wrist back with an awkward pause, and Lexa looked at her pointedly. “Sorry, I…You were there last night.” Her head had been pounding, now her heart had joined in at a rapid rhythm.

Lexa looked at her boredly. “Yes. I saw you getting quite comfortable with _Niylah_.” The way she said the name was icy.

Clarke tilted her head slightly. Was she… _jealous?_  

“She was just…keeping me busy. I tried to talk to you, but-”

“I was in the middle of a business meeting.” Lexa sounded slightly apologetic. She eyed the gargantuan stack of papers at Clarke’s legs. “You do realize it’s Saturday, Dr. Griffin?”

“Dr. Griffin is my mother.” Clarke responded automatically. “Please, call me Clarke.”

“Clarke.” Lexa repeated slowly, nodding. Clarke kept from shivering on the rare occasion that Lexa rolled her name around on her tongue like that. “Your mother is also a doctor?”

Clarke’s gaze shifted, and Lexa seemed to understand she’d touched upon a delicate subject.

“I’m here because of those.” Clarke lifted the stack, trying not to notice the way Lexa eyed her bare arms. “Anya demanded them.”

Lexa bit back a laugh, and Clarke wanted to kill Anya. So it was all a big joke after all.

Clarke stood, stretching slightly. Lexa turned to avoid casting her full gaze on Clarke’s taut stomach, and instead she gave Clarke a full view of the cut on her cheek.

“Are you alright?” Clarke asked, suddenly in doctor mode. She leaned forward, taking Lexa’s chin delicately with one hand, brushing her finger ever so gently against the cut with the other.

She heard Lexa’s breath hitch, and they both froze against each other. “Sorry.” Clarke breathed, taking a step back first. She saw Lexa’s body heave a sigh as she did so. “Ms. Woods, you should-”

“Lexa.” Lexa corrected her, and Clarke felt like grinning. “It’s just Lexa. Especially when we’re…alone, like this.”

“Okay, I…. Lexa.” Clarke took a moment to let it sink in. Closeness. This was good, Clarke told herself. _Bellamy_ would want her to get close. “We should get that checked out.”

Lexa touched her cheek absently, and then glanced at Clarke’s cluttered desk. “Can you come to my office?”

Clarke nodded. “I’ll just be a minute. Let me get some disinfectant.”

Clarke watched Lexa leave. She wondered what Lexa had done to earn the cut. She wondered how bad the other person must’ve looked, remembering the files she’d read on Lexa.

* * *

 

Lexa’s desk was barren enough for her to sit on. It brought her low enough so that Clarke could easily work around her high, framing cheekbones.

Assuming Clarke would ever stop staring at her.

“Clarke?” She blinked, biting back what might have been an amused smile.

“Oh!” Clarke reached for a cotton swab. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.” _That was a lie_. She knew damn well what she was thinking, rather, daydreaming about.

“What about?” Lexa inquired, sitting on her hands to still herself.

“This is going to sting a little.” Clarke brought the alcohol soaked tip forward, and began to clean Lexa’s cut. She seized the opportunity to form a better excuse than “Your face.” She settled for something a bit more tame. “I was just noticing how you don’t have any pictures around here.”

Lexa remained unflinching. She was a marvel, to Clarke. Like a war goddess. “Pictures of…what?”

Clarke shook her head. Sometimes, Lexa was like an alien. “Your family? Your…boyfriend?”

Lexa made a face.

“Girlfriend.” Clarke corrected, feeling something bloom in her chest. “Try not to move.”

Lexa’s features softened. “My parents are deceased. I have pictures of them in my home.”

Clarke froze. “Oh, Lexa, I’m so sorry.” She breathed out, wanting nothing more than to pull the girl into an embrace.

“It is done.” Lexa replied, eyeing Clarke’s hands rather than her eyes. “As for…girlfriends…” Lexa changed the subject, and Clarke let her. “I am single. For good reason, too.”

Clarke shouldn’t have felt the giddiness she did when Lexa made that statement. But with her hands already caressing her face, healing her…she simply did.

“What reason could _that_ be?” Clarke let it slip before she could regulate her words. _Way to not be obvious, Clarke._

“Love is blindness, Clarke.” Lexa replied, turning her head as Clarke did with her hands. “Love is weakness.”

Clarke took a step back for a moment. “That’s painful way to live.”

Lexa tilted her head, and the way the golden light filtered in from the window pane made Clarke swoon internally. “You don’t think so?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” Clarke confessed. She suddenly felt a flood of emotions, as if she were revealing too much of herself too soon.  “I’m sorry if this is too personal, you’re my boss, I-”

“-You have steady hands.” Lexa commented, her voice soothing and interrupting  as Clarke stepped forward once more cleaned the area around her cheek.

“I am a doctor, whether you and Anya realize it.” Clarke teased, and Lexa’s lips formed a smile against the side of her hand.

Just then, there was a knock on Lexa’s closed office door. Lexa’s back straightened as she leapt off her desk gracefully, calling out a commanding “Enter.”

Anya came in, in a way that Clarke had never seen her before. Something clouded her gaze as she completely ignored Clarke. She was wearing a casual combo of jeans and a jacket. She must not have been working.

“How are you feeling, Lexa?” Anya practically pushed Clarke aside.

Lexa glanced wearily at Clarke, and then back to Anya. “This is why you're here on a Saturday and not home?”

Anya’s gaze softened as she reached out to touch Lexa’s shoulder.

Clarke began shuffling away awkwardly. Were they an item?

“You.” Anya’s voice commanded as she whipped around. “Stay.”

Clarke froze in place, cheeks burning. She felt out of place.

“Anya, Clarke cleaned out my cut. I'm fine.” Lexa responded, offering a secretly thankful gaze to Clarke.

“ _Clarke_?” Anya mimicked Lexa’s tone, and Lexa looked as if she wanted to roll her eyes. “Anyway, while I'm happy that _Dr. Griffin_ ” she put emphasis on her official, distanced title “-has found a worthy cause here, you know _that's_ not why I'm worried about you.”

Lexa’s green eyes steeled at she leveled with Anya. “ _Shof Op,_ Anya _….Beja_ …” And suddenly her eyes were pleading Anya not to bring up whatever was plaguing her.

“ _Kei_.” Anya sighed, leaning back towards Clarke. “Fine. But s _he_ comes with us.”

Lexa’s brow raised. “You're placing conditions on the _heda_ now?” Something in her tone made her threat sound diminished.

Clarke’s knowledge of the language wasn’t nearly good enough to grasp a majority of what was being said.

Anya rolled her eyes. “For her best interests. I am her oldest friend, am I not?”

Lexa offered her a wry smile. “For now.”

Clarke watched the exchange with both relief and anticipation. _So there was nothing going on there_. Not that it mattered, or anything. She still had her hunch about Lincoln and Anya. , though.

Maybe, if she were ever close enough, she could ask Lexa. She shook the thought. She wasn’t there to gossip and make friends. She was there with purpose.

“So you’re coming tonight.” Anya turned to Clarke suddenly.

Clarke's heart began to race. Was she finally getting into their good graces? (If Anya possessed such a thing).

Lexa sighed. “Anya, it's her weekend. _Teik em gon we houm_.”

Clarke’s brow shot up. This was her chance, her window to seize a victory for Bellamy and Octavia and everyone else who was relying on her.

“I don't need to go home.” Clarke blurted out and then covered her moth when Lexa shot her an incredulous gaze.

“She knows-” before Lexa could even finish her outcry, Anya responded.

“Yes. The little sneak has been listening to Lincoln and I communicate for the past three weeks.” Anya nearly growled. “She learns the language surprisingly easily.”

Lexa's response was a hardened gaze in Clarke's direction, softened by the tiniest smirk. Was that _pride_? Maybe Clarke was beginning to imagine things.

“Fine, eavesdropper, come. Tonight there is a fundraising gala event for all the big names in the industry. I usually bring a few choice employees, but, seeing as Anya here is so fond of you, you may accompany our group.” Lexa’s amusement was not well guarded for once.

Clarke’s eyes widened. “An event? I don't know, I…”

Lexa shrugged indifferently, which almost hurt Clarke. “There are plenty of doctors for you to converse with. And of course a few choice senators have regular business with me at these events.”

Clarke nearly dropped the disinfectant she’d been holding. Senators? For a gangster, Lexa certainly maintained high end clientele.

“Wear something formal, Clarke.” Anya nearly wrinkled her nose at disgust of using Clarke's first name. “Lexa’s dates are constantly under scrutiny.”

And with that, Anya practically pushed Clarke out of Lexa’s office, and shut the door in her face.

Clarke's heart was hammering so loudly she almost couldn't hear her own thoughts. Lexa’s _date_? She felt a subconscious smile spread across her features. That was one hell of a step up. Bellamy would be pleased.

_Bellamy._

Clarke froze. Lexa said every big name in the business would be at the fundraising event. That meant Bellamy and his people, her people, she reminded herself quickly, would be there too.

She didn't know what would happen when the two would be under the same roof, but she knew that it would be tense.

 And she would be caught dead in between them.

* * *

 

If Clarke was worried about her decision not to tell the Blakes that she would be at the event, she’d long forgotten about it in the fog of getting ready.

Clarke didn’t own too many formal dresses. She hardly ever went to formal gatherings, and when she did, it typically wasn’t in high fashion. Her style was more of the adventurous, jeans and sweater deal.

But she did have a few tricks up her sleeve, in the rare event that she was to spend a lavish evening on the town.

And she’d employed it full force.

She really wanted to impress Lexa. And of course make a good impression in front of Anya, Bellamy, and whoever the hell else was there. But for some reason, she found herself thinking of Lexa through every stage of getting ready.

She thought of Lexa when she’d done her hair up to expose a slender neck. She’d thought of Lexa when she donned a mid-length black gown that happened to be the most expensive piece of clothing she’d owned. She’d thought of Lexa when she donned her torturous heels and hanging earrings and perfected her smoky makeup.

She didn’t know why.

She didn’t dwell on it too much.

So why, then, was she disappointed, when she opened the door to her apartment, to see Lincoln?

He looked like he worked for the god damned secret service. He was wearing a broad shouldered suit, complete with a Bluetooth receiver in his ear.

He offered Clarke a smile, and even an arm.

Clarke turned to lock her door. Where was Lexa?

“I’m here to escort you down to the car.” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

Clarke felt embarrassed. Did she look disappointed? Was it obvious?

“You look very handsome, Lincoln.” Clarke offered him a smile as they walked.

Lincoln chuckled. “Save the ass-kissing for Woods. I don’t know how you managed to get yourself invited, but keep it up.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Anya wanted me to be here for Lexa.”

Lincoln smiled as they approached the road, where the cars were parked. “Well hey, you’re useful, at least.”

Clarke froze, and Lincoln stopped immediately. “Clarke? Are you okay?”

Clarke’s eyes were wide. There was one, black tinted SUV in front of her. “Are you sure Lexa isn’t the president?” She sputtered.

Lincoln shrugged. “She might as well be. But don’t get excited, she’s not here.”

Clarke was dying of curiosity. “Who’s in the front car? What’s the difference?”

Lincoln rolled his eyes. “You’re full of questions, aren’t you? Just get in.” He smiled as the door was opened. He helped Clarke settle in, and the got into the driver’s seat himself.

“Uh…are we going to pick up Lexa?” Clarke tried, genuinely curious. “And Anya?”

Lincoln laughed as he drove. “No. We’ll meet them there.”

“I could’ve taken a cab.” Clarke suggested, watching his eyes meet hers from the rearview mirror.

“Lexa sent me to retrieve you.” Lincoln informed her. “Besides, isn’t this nicer than a cab?”

“I could get used to this.” Clarke teased, leaning back to watch the window. She wondered why they wouldn’t all arrive in the same car. Nothing made sense.

She was going to change all that.

* * *

 

“Uh, the front of the hotel is to the right.” Clarke commented as Lincoln made a very distinct left.

“I’m aware, Clarke.” Lincoln replied with a bit of humor as he passed a security post, flashing something to the active guard as they raised the gate for him to enter.

“This must be where the high profile guests arrive.” Clarke was speaking more to herself at that point, but Lincoln nodded to confirm her suspicions.

Clarke watched as Lincoln pulled up next to another almost identical looking car, which had also just arrived. He stepped out and opened Clarke’s door, watching as Clarke blushed and stepped out.

Clarke came around the side and froze. She’d nearly bumped into Lexa. And god, was she stunning. Lexa’s hair was tamed down around her shoulders, exposed by a dress that hugged every curve on her body.

And she was staring at Clarke the way Clarke used to look at the starry sky at night, when she’d felt compelled to paint and capture each and every glimmer that twinkled in her eye. Lexa was her sky here, and every inch of her body was a star, a constellation waiting to be read.

“You look…” Clarke took a step back to simply admire every inch of her, from her eyes to her legs, which Clarke hadn’t really gotten a look at until that moment. “Stunning. I just…wow.” Clarke felt like an idiot at her inability to express anything.

If Clarke didn’t know any better, she would have said that Lexa Woods blushed at her compliment. But she was probably just suddenly cold, with rosy cheeks. Lexa didn’t blush.

“As do you, Clarke.” Lexa’s response was somehow all the energy Clarke needed to get through the evening.

Anya rounded the side of the SUV, and Clarke had to give her credit too, she knew how to clean up well. Her long hair was cascading down one side, while her long blue gown accentuated just about everything else. She was, of course, holding a clipboard. Did she ever _not_ work?

But Clarke and Lexa weren’t done waging war on each other’s bodies with their eyes alone. Clarke noticed that Lexa used makeup to cleverly cover up the majority of her cut, which she’d have to clean again…if she were lucky.

Suddenly, two more cars sped into the parking structure from the gate before, parking.

Clarke felt a hand tugging at her waist, and suddenly she was behind Lexa. She heard a thick warning “heda.” From behind them. Gustus, wherever the hell he’d been lumbering, had just moved in front of Lexa. Lincoln seemed to flank the side.

The cars were Bellamy’s.

That was made clear from the moment he and Octavia stepped out, their outfits alone probably costing Clarke’s rent. And then there was Raven, wearing a black jacket and matching jeans. And then Murphy, from the other side. It was like they hadn’t even see Clarke. And maybe they hadn’t the way Lexa had taken to shielding her with her own body.

Clarke felt like she was in the middle of a western standoff. Without a gun.

Clarke felt Lincoln’s hand brush against her, and she realized that he was brandishing a gun from a holster on the inside of his jacket. She stiffened against Lexa, who watched the exchange with a wary gaze.

“Gustus.” Lincoln spoke in a low voice, pushing the pistol into the palm of his hand. “Here.”

Anya watched intensely, looking as if she wanted to shoot Bellamy herself.

There were at least a few cars separating them, amidst an otherwise empty lot.

Gustus took the pistol and nodded, holding it down. He looked ready, and Clarke assumed he must’ve been a good shot, else he wouldn’t be working for Lexa.

She suddenly realized why Anya might want the presence of a trusted doctor there…But, there was no way a fight was going to break out then. In public?

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke saw Murphy and Raven reach for their belt areas, and Clarke knew that was trouble.

“Play nice.” Lexa spoke aloud to her people with a wry smirk. “We are in public, after all. On _neutral_ ground.”

Gustus grunted a question of whether he should make a move, and Lexa responded. “Ste daun weron yu ste kamp.” _Stay where you are._

“Lincoln, stay with us.” Lexa instructed further, and as she hung back to murmur something else to him, Clarke swore she heard “Especially Clarke.” at the end.

Lincoln looked unsure. “I have to protect you, I can’t possibly if they-”

Lexa’s answer was icy. “Den dula yu dula en shil ai op.” _Then do your duty and protect me._

Clarke knew what that meant from context alone.

Tonight was going to be a tense one.

* * *

 

Lexa was received with great love from just about everyone in the massive hotel ballroom. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling set a reflective sparkle about the room, and its attendees. Soft lounge music played, and Clarke was in awe.

Lexa was a natural. She looked poised and relaxed all at once, and her words dripped with threats and delicacy simultaneously, depending on whomever it was she was addressing.

Clarke was a foot or two behind Lexa for the majority of her greetings, too shy to step into the limelight. She knew that Lexa had to have been tense, with Bellamy having entered with Octavia and Raven on the opposite side of the room.

Clarke realized that Lexa left Gustus outside and Bellamy had left Murphy. What she couldn’t understand was _why_. Why leave alone two cold blooded killers from rival gangs within fifty feet of each other. With guns. She had much to learn apparently.

And then there was the matter of how much Clarke knew. Until that point, Lexa had kept her covert affairs from Clarke, and had made it a point to keep Clarke out of the business. But now? After the gun incident? She hadn’t said a word.

It wasn’t until Clarke leaned back to actually ask Anya a question until she’d noticed that Anya was gone.

It was instead Lincoln, who’d been at the rear of both Clarke and Lexa. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed how much time Clarke spent staring at Lexa, or he’d rub it in for sure.

“Where’s Anya?” Clarke inquired.

Lincoln jerked his head toward the side of the ballroom, where Anya looked as if she were speaking very sternly to some portly man in his fifties, maybe. Clarke recognized him from the newspapers. That was Senator Roland Green. Anya looked as if she were threatening him. He looked horrified.

“What’s she doing?” Clarke nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her back, and when she turned to identify her harasser, she instead found Lexa offering her a flute of champagne she’d plucked off a nearby waiter.

“She’s working, Clarke.” Lexa responded with a toast before tilting her own glass back.

Clarke almost wished it’d drip a little, off her chin to- _Focus, Clarke._ She shook her head.

“So we’re not going to talk about what happened in the parking lot?” Clarke found some liquid courage then, though she hadn’t even processed her sip of champagne.

Lincoln gave Clarke a look, but Lexa waved him off. She was whispering in Clarke’s ear suddenly.

“That was business too, Clarke.” She responded wryly.

Clarke could smell the champagne and the berries and she wanted to melt on the spot. But she felt Bellamy and Octavia’s eyes trained on her from across the room, and she kept herself together.

“Was it?” Clarke demanded, thinking she should react a bit. Lexa needed to think that she knew nothing.

“Mhmm.” Lexa nodded, eyeing Clarke with a challenging gaze.

“You don’t like the Blakes?” Clarke asked, suddenly feeling quite gutsy.

 Lincoln snorted in disgust and Lexa glanced away for a moment. “You know them?” She countered with her own question.

“They practically own Ark hospital. Of course I’ve heard of them.” Clarke quickly recovered. She needed to control herself. She might reveal too much at any time.

Lexa looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded as if she accepted Clarke’s answer as true. “We have our differences.”

Clarke thought of the guns that were drawn on sight of each other. “I’ll say.”

Lexa eyed her once more. “You’ve been quiet tonight, Clarke.”

Clarke admitted the truth. “I’m just…in awe of you. Your ability to network, I mean.” She added quickly.

 Lexa tilted her head in curiosity. Clarke loved when she did that, it was so endearing.

“Lexa, they’re coming.” Lincoln’s voice sounded vigilant, cold, alert.

Lexa whipped around, just in time to see Bellamy and Octavia casually approaching, the area they’d gathered in populated with people. Clarke saw Raven lingering a few steps behind, looking tense as ever. Bellamy wasn’t there to make a scene. He couldn’t if he’d wanted to. She’d seen the way Lexa had nodded to some of the security members before they’d come in. Grounders. Everywhere.

Clarke must’ve looked nervous because she felt Lexa’s slender, muscled arm pull her a bit closer from around her waist, much more elegantly than she’d done outside. Clarke felt goosebumps under her gown and she hoped Lexa hadn’t noticed.

“Let’s make a lasting impression, hmm?” Lexa murmured as they approached. Clarke heard Lincoln cough from behind them, he must’ve been tense.

Octavia’s eyes looked right over Clarke’s head to Lincoln. Maybe she remembered him from the bar.

It was then, finally, that Bellamy’s eyes fell on Clarke. More specifically, Lexa’s arm around Clarke’s waist. If he was shocked that she was there, he didn’t express it. In fact, he looked as if all he cared about was saying his piece to Lexa. As if he didn’t know Clarke at all.

Which he wasn’t supposed to, Clarke quickly reminded herself.

“Ms. Woods.” Bellamy’s voice rang with authority. His eyes were searching hers for something. Answers?

Great. Clarke internally rolled her eyes. Another pissing match.

“The Blake siblings.” Lexa eyed the both with a fire Clarke had only seen once or twice before. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Bellamy glanced around and lowered his voice. “Cut the shit, Lexa.”

Lexa’s grip tightened around Clarke instinctively. She shifted her gaze to Octavia, likely thinking it odd that she hadn’t said anything. She was usually the aggressor. Bellamy struck with action and strategy. Octavia operated by impulse.

“Atom.” Octavia nearly growled, but Lexa remained stoic. Their voices barely carried with all the chatter that rang throughout the room, combined with the low music. “He hasn’t reported back. Our sources say he disappeared on the _west_ side.”

Lexa didn’t break. “I’m supposed to know who this is? If you can’t keep track of your own people, maybe you don’t deserve any.”

Raven was clenching and unclenching her fists in the background, and Clarke felt a palpable tension and heat in the short space between them. Raven kept eyeing her and looking away, and she feared Lexa might have caught on, had she not been too busy defending herself to Bellamy.

Octavia’s eyes fell to Lincoln’s forehead, and then Lexa’s faint cheek scar. Her jaw set. “You _didn’t._ ” She drew in a breath, voice low, cold, and level.

Bellamy put a hand on her shoulder, in a vain attempt to calm her down. “O-”

“You _bitch_.” Octavia’s whisper cut into Clarke life a knife, even though it wasn’t directed at her.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, taking a breath. Atom. The same guy she’d passed thousands of times coming from Bellamy’s. The same guy she used to get lunch with on occasion, who shared that he used to dream about being a doctor. Atom, with his dark hair and sharp eyes and caring smile. He was gone.

Lexa put him down. Just like that.

Clarke suddenly felt very uneasy, and she might have understood why Raven was looking at her so unsurely. She was in a very, very delicate position. A threat to her own life.

“He attacked my people.” Lexa’s voice was so unshaken, so steady. She almost sounded apathetic, if not for the tone of defensiveness that laced her voice. “He attacked _my_ people, on _my_ side. And he wouldn’t come quietly.”

“Come quietly? Who the fuck do you thi-” Bellamy’s threat was cut off by Lexa’s.

“If you ever send anyone after me, or my people again, I will _not_ show mercy.” Lexa snapped suddenly, keeping her voice down.

Bellamy looked like a deer in headlights. So he’d sent Atom.

Clarke felt weak suddenly, and realized Lexa’s hand was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Mercy? You savage-.” Octavia almost spit out and Lincoln stepped forward.

“Watch your mouth.” Lincoln snapped, which, like a domino effect, sent Raven forward.

“We’re done here.” Lexa turned to leave, hand almost off of Clarke before Clarke nearly went reeling to the floor, courtesy of Raven bumping into her, and her unreliable heels.

Lexa steadied Clarke, eyes shooting daggers at Raven’s back as she walked away after uttering a clearly exaggerated apology.

“Are you alright, Clarke?” Lexa tipped Clarke’s chin down to see her eyes, her voice sounding genuine concern.

Clarke’s heart hammered and she averted her gaze. “No…I…I think I need a moment. To…uh…freshen up.”

Lexa looked deflated only for a moment before nodding. “Take Anya with you.” She motioned to where Anya was. She must’ve interpreted Clarke’s evasion as fear. Rightly so.

“I’m fine.” Clarke shook her head and wordlessly turned to seek out the restrooms.

Once she was safely out in the hall, she unclenched her fist to unravel the small shred of a note Raven had forced in her hand. The music was a dull drone from behind the thick wall. Clarke did a once over to check for any unwanted company. She was alone.

She unfurled the lazily scrawled note that read:

_I’m worried about you. Lexa is dangerous. Be careful._

_-R_

Clarke blinked back the dangerous pricking of tears in her eyes.

_What had she gotten herself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and leaving kind comments here and on Tumblr (Effortlessly-Opulent). If you have questions or suggestions, that's where I'll be! Expect the future meetings of these two "gangs" to be a lot bigger, and well...bloodier? This was kind of a tame, posh little meeting. They don't usually operate like that. As far as all the unanswered questions- (Clarke's background, Lexa's parents, Octavia and Lincoln, etc- expect them all to be answered in the upcoming chapters!) And of course, the fun will really begin with this out of the way. If you enjoyed or have any advice, I'll always consider the comments!


	4. Shut Up

Clarke could only have been described as “stiff” for the rest of the evening. She avoided Lexa’s fierce emerald gaze, hoping that she would leave her to think. She’d been playing with fire, and it was only a matter of time before she’d be burned. And to think, she thought she could help. So far, she had nothing to show for it.

 _And Atom was dead._ Lexa, or her people, were responsible. The Grounders. Her so called family.

Had she forgotten what Lexa was? A murderer. A gangster. A cutthroat kingpin whose interests outweighed the lives of anyone else. How could she have been so blind?

She’d lost Finn to her, too. That was enough. She wasn’t about to let Lexa hurt any more of her own people. The “Arkers” as they’d come to be known by the enemy. She had a family to protect, and now, avenge.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Lincoln drove Clarke home in silence, giving her empty void of a mind time to rest. She needed it.

Clarke headed up the stairs wordlessly, locking her door behind her for extra measure, which she might have forgotten on any other occasion, and fell asleep, feeling like a failure and not for the first time.

* * *

 

When Clarke returned to Blake Tower on Sunday morning, there were no smiles. Even the weather was stormy, grey, and unforgiving. Rain slammed against the outside of the broad window panes, and it echoed across the vacant hallways and offices. Hardly anyone was there, even though it was Sunday. It was a deserted palace, with cold stone tiles and creaking elevators.

The only noises Clarke heard were on the top floor, from Bellamy’s office.

This time there was no music, no upbeat roar or pounding bass.

There was no laughter, or distinct scent of Chinese takeout.

There was no shout of “There’s the lady of the hour!” or “Hey Griff!” When Clarke stepped into the cold, silent room.

Instead, there were a few tears. Mostly, heads buried in rested arms, propped up by tired elbows.

Everyone who mattered to Clarke was there.

Bellamy.

Raven.

Octavia.

Monty.

Murphy.

Everyone who was left from Bellamy’s chosen family. All together. All looking incredibly defeated.

Bellamy raised his head once Clarke entered, hugging her shoulders as if a cold draft had blown in. He nodded, leaning back in his chair.

Raven was the first to actually greet her. She rose from her seat on the floor, enveloping Clarke into a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.” She murmured, an unusual sight. Raven was never one for sentimental shows of affection. “Are you okay?” Her eyes seemed to scan Clarke for injuries.

Like Lexa would ever let anything happen to her. She’d pulled Clarke protectively to her side all night. In the presence of a gun.

That c _ouldn’_ t have been just for show.

“I’m fine.” Clarke assured her, her voice a low whisper. “What…what’s going on?”

“Just a little mourning and regrets.” Raven tried to make light of it, but her smile faltered when her gaze fell on Bellamy, who was whispering something to Octavia.

“Atom. Right.” Clarke breathed out a sigh.

Monty rose from his seat then, shaking his head.

It was Murphy who spoke, however. “This isn’t just about Atom.”

Monty looked sorrowful, glancing out the window.

"This is about _her_." Bellamy broke the awkward silence that enveloped the air following Murphy's words. It came out as a guttural, low growl.

Clarke's stomach turned. She knew he was referring to Lexa. She didn't muster enough willpower to force a reply.

For some reason, the thought of Bellamy hurting her- it didn't sit well with Clarke. She knew where her loyalties laid. With her family.

But the way he seethed, he was practically foaming at the mouth. Clarke couldn't understand why she felt the need to reciprocate the protection she felt under Lexa's reign. She couldn't understand why she felt safe with her.

It was all backwards. All wrong.

"We fucked up, Clarke." Octavia spat, kicking the miniature trash can sitting at the foot of Bellamy's great wooden desk.

The harsh discord of the metal against the floor snapped Clarke to reality. "Wha....what do you mean?"

Monty sighed, running a hand through his hair in what appeared to be severe discomfort.

Murphy looked down at his worn shoes, kicking at the polished floor.

"Atom fucked up," Raven began, the first to inform Clarke. "He-"

"No." Octavia didn't let her finish. "It was us. It was our call."

"Your call? I don't understand..." Clarke trailed off, wishing her sweater would offer her more warmth in that moment.

"Lexa Woods was returning from a trip, two nights ago. With sensitive information." Bellamy's voice was thick, laden with regret and pain. "I sent Atom to... _eliminate_ her."

Clarke's eyes widened and her involuntary gasp only distanced her further from her stoic appearance.

Octavia's eyes hardened. "She had her people with her. It was stupid to send him alone."

"You tried to _assassinate_ Lexa?" Clarke stuttered. The cut. Lincoln's wound. Their confrontation. It was all becoming abundantly clear.

So Atom's death was no cruel show of power. No message sent to the Arkers for a ridiculous territorial struggle.

It was self defense.

But it was still murder. And that was inexcusable, right? Clarke's entire profession was centered around an oath that meant she could do no harm. Was condoning it any better? 

"And failed, fucking horribly." Bellamy snapped, throwing his pen at the wall.

"I should've been there." Murphy shook his head. "He wasn't as experienced as Raven and Me."

Monty sighed. "My information was trash. I should've known she wasn't alone."

Raven shook her head. "No. Fuck no. Guys, we can't afford to do this. We can't fall apart and blame ourselves for this. Atom wouldn't have wanted that."

"Yeah? Well now he's dead." Murphy nearly spat.

Raven's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched, and Clarke could foresee the outcome before it began.

Apparently, Bellamy had that vision as well. "That's enough." He rose out of his seat, his jaw locked. "Raven's right."

Clarke had fallen silent, leaning against the wall. She knew where this would end. Back to her. The weight on her shoulders was nearly crushing her.

"We need action." Octavia chimed in. Clarke noticed that she was wearing black: from her jacket to her jeans and boots.

She was mourning the loss of a dear friend, perhaps more than anyone else in the room.

"What do you suggest?" Murphy nearly snapped, and for the first time, Clarke felt a divide within the group. It was terrifying.

Murphy ran a hand over his slicked hair, and turned threateningly, puffing his chest out as threatened males often do. His worn leather jacket only added to his threatening build, but Bellamy towered over him by at least a foot.

“I don’t suggest.” Bellamy growled, taking a step towards Murphy. “I order. You should know that better than anyone, _John_.”

“People die when you issue orders, Bellamy.” Murphy seethed.

Clarke felt for him. He had been Atom’s mentor. Murphy had trained him as a kid off the streets. Murphy taught him to handle himself, to respect Bellamy, and to win Octavia’s affections. Murphy was there when Octavia left him, at Bellamy’s behest. Murphy had been there for Atom.

And Atom was taken from him.

“You have a fucking problem with the way I’m running things? With the goddamn salary I pay you to do my bidding? With the food I put on your plate or the clothes on your back?” Bellamy snapped.

Octavia kept her gaze trained on her brother, as if she were ready to stop his nearly inevitable outburst.

Clarke knew that was a futile effort. No one held Bellamy back when he was in a fit of rage.

Raven sunk back beside Clarke, clearly refusing to join in. Clarke felt a little warmth from her presence, in an otherwise chilling atmosphere.

No one argued with Bellamy. Not like that.

Murphy looked at the floor, shoulders sulking as if an anvil had been placed on him. His lips barely moved when he whispered, “Twenty-Three.”

Bellamy spoke through gritted teeth. “What?”

Murphy spoke once more, raising his head in what was almost an act of defiance, save for his subservient tone. “Twenty-three. That’s how old Atom was.”

Bellamy took a step back, as if someone had struck him hard.

“You know, it is…or…was…. going to be his birthday, next Tuesday.” Murphy laughed bitterly, throwing his head back and making a choked up noise.

Octavia let out a sharp, aching breath, and Bellamy had enough. His shoulders shook, almost as if her were laughing, or sobbing, or displaying any kind of evident emotion that reflected his feelings.

His expressions were blank. “A moment please.” He motioned for the door, and Raven and Monty were up in an instant, turning to leave.

Octavia stepped forward, blinking tears away from her eyes. “Bell….”

“O, please. I need to be alone.” Bellamy responded tersely, turning away.

Octavia bit her lip nervously, as if she were contemplating the severity of his words, before opting on leading Murphy away with a gentle pull of his arm.

That left Clarke, who’d all but forgotten to breathe, against the wall, alone in the office with Bellamy.

“I…I’ll leave.” Clarke responded, turning for the door.

It was then that she heard a sharp sniffle, and she turned to see a silent sob rack Bellamy’s broad shoulders.

She’d only seen Bellamy cry once before, when Octavia had been in an accident, and he’d been so sure that he’d lost her. Clarke remembered the dread that settled deep within her very being, the feeling of losing a sister.

“No…” Bellamy dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve. “Clarke…stay.” His words were barely above a whisper, and Clarke barely recognized him like this. He was ruthless. He was cold, calculating, a pragmatist and a thinker. He never felt, like Octavia, who experienced every and any emotion under the sun so intensely.

“Bellamy…” Clarke took a few hesitant step forward, extending her arm out to gently grab his own in an act of comfort. She nearly jumped when his arm latched to hers, and he looked up at her, his eyes pleading.

“Clarke.” He took in a breath, his voice returning to its baritone quality. “I need you. Now, more than ever.”

Clarke felt what must have been shock course through her veins, igniting every fiber of her being with a terribly urgent sensation, almost resembling a need to run. Away from everything. Away from her responsibilities, her friends and family, her work…

She squeezed her eyes further shut when she imagined running away to _her._

 “I need you to help me, Clarke. Help me put her down. Get me something, dammit. _Anything. Please_.” Bellamy had never pleaded for anything in his life.

Clarke was completely taken aback. She had no choice, but to tell him. The man who’d given her everything owned. Whose family cared for her when she neglected to see the value in her own existence. Whom she loved with all her heart.

“I…well…” Clarke began unsurely. She was so emotionally exhausted. This was the tipping point for her rapidly sinking ship, it seemed. “I’m actually getting close to her. To Lexa, I mean.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened. He began to nod slowly. “I saw that. Last night, the way her arm was draped around you. That makes sense.”

Clarke was quick to build a safety net under her promise of what might have potentially been false hope. “But she’s tough to crack. I don’t know…I need time.”

Bellamy looked thoughtful for a moment. And then his eyes darkened. His jaw set, and he looked like his normal self once more. The ruthless, pragmatic Bellamy Blake. The one who wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

The one who tried to assassinate Lexa Woods.

“We can do that. It’ll be tough, but we can do that. We can buy you time. Get me enough information. Get her on her fucking knees for you Clarke. And we’ll keep her that way.” Bellamy nodded exaggeratedly now, excited by his own premise.

Clarke couldn’t really move, or respond. She couldn’t find it within herself to. She merely nodded, trying to ignore the icy feeling that shot through her.

It felt terribly, utterly wrong.

* * *

 

Clarke was nearly out the main door when she was yanked aside by Raven, who’d apparently followed her out the elevator.

“Hey-!” Clarke called out, nearly keeling over, had she not had the support of Raven’s arm. “What the hell, Raven?”

The brunette rolled her eyes, and then quickly got to her point. Clarke always liked that about her. Except a few pleasantries here and there never hurt. But she wouldn’t have Raven any other way.

“Did you calm things down? You know, do some mind calming exercise or some shit?” Raven asked anxiously.

Clarke rolled her eyes this time. “I’m a doctor, not a shrink.”

Raven let out an airy little laugh before pressing on. “Okay so what happened?”

Clarke drew in a breath. “Nothing. I just told him we’d make things right. That I’d help.”

Raven looked unsure for a moment, and then nodded. “I get it. It needs to be done. But I don’t like it.”

Clarke tilted her head, and it felt slightly reminiscent of the way Lexa did when she was curious. “What? Why?”

Raven looked at Clarke as if she were an idiot. “Seriously? Because I love you. And I’m worried about you.”

Clarke’s heart swelled a little. Raven had always been a fiercely loyal, loving friend. She was lucky. “I should be the concerned one here. You’re the gangster here, not me.”

Raven smirked at that. “Well I’m good at my job.”

Clarke shuddered at the thought of what exactly Raven’s job entailed.

Raven nudged Clarke’s arm playfully before continuing. “But I’m not in the lair of Satan herself.”

Clarke involuntarily frowned. “Lexa isn’t Satan.”

Raven mirrored her expression. “All jokes aside, Clarke. She’s fucking dangerous. She’s a trained killer, and…she’s really fucking good at it.”

Clarke glanced away unsurely. How was she supposed to argue that?

“She’s a tactical genius. And a manipulator. And a damn fine liar.” Raven spoke with a heat and passion that resembled Octavia.

“I’m the liar here.” Clarke sighed, feeling the guilt seep deep into her undertones. “I’m the manipulator.”

Raven made a face of surprise, before her expression softened. She put a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, exposing her sleeved wrist. The Ark insignia was there, tattooed to her forearm. The three conjoined semicircles that held a different meaning for everyone that bore it.

“Hey…you don’t actually believe that, do you?” Raven’s tone was soft. It was a rare moment of exposure. “I mean, don’t confuse this. She’s bad. You’re good.”

Clarke shook her head. “You know, Raven, I’m not so sure there really is good and bad…just…grey.”

Raven furrowed her brow. “Finn didn’t believe that.” Her words were quiet, solemn. She watched Clarke’s shoulders sink with bright brown eyes. “You don’t either.”

Clarke sighed, ignoring the pang that tore at her chest. “Finn’s gone.”

“And never fucking forget who did that.” Raven whispered. “He wasn’t even stable when they…when _she_ ….” She shook her head. Her words caught in her throat.

“You loved him…” Clarke barely spoke above a whisper.

“You did, too.” Raven’s voice revealed trace amounts of pain, anguish, anger…it was all coming back.

So Clarke did what she did best. She turned away and ran. Like she had from home. Like she had from her mother. Like she had from the truth. All her life.

“Clarke.” She heard Raven call after her. “I won’t lose you too.”

* * *

 

Monday mornings were never Clarke’s best times. She often found the after effects of the weekends would haunt her into the following week, and she’d miss the warm comfort of her bed.

This morning had been no different. Clarke had been nearly sleepwalking into the main lobby of Lexa’s building. It was, of course, much more lively and packed than Clarke’s mind. The contrast was painfully loud to her ears.

She followed her usual route to the elevator, but stopped promptly before getting inside. Out of the far corner of her eye, she saw a familiar blonde chatting with someone she couldn’t quite see from her position. Niylah. Inching forward, her gaze revealed that she was, in fact, conversing with Lexa.

Clarke took about ten seconds to remove her eyes from Lexa’s figure, clad in a work suit as usual. She made office fashion appealing. She made everything appealing. Clarke shook her head. Niylah.

Her heart skipped a beat when she remembered how they’d flirted at the bar. She mentally cursed herself when she’d realized that she’d never actually called. How very typical of Clarke to prioritize anything over her own social life.

Lexa’s face turned to one of a stern boss, and Niylah’s eyes fell to the floor. Clarke was terrible at reading lips, but she _swore_ she saw a very distinct “Clarke” come off Lexa’s. It was unmistakable, and Clarke knew, because her eyes devoured Lexa’s lips whenever she said her name. It was uniquely Lexa.

Niylah looked ashamed. Was Lexa telling her to stay away from Clarke? Was she jealous? Clarke’s heart began hammering in her chest, and she tried to ignore the feelings she felt in the pit of her stomach. None of this actually mattered, right? It was all a show for Bellamy’s plan.

And then Niylah shook hands with Lexa rather awkwardly, turned down the hall to her left, and disappeared.

That was when Clarke locked eyes with Lexa from across the lobby. She felt Lexa rake her over once with her eyes. Clarke’s first reaction was terrible. Though, in her defense, she couldn’t be caught trying to eavesdrop on her boss for a _third time_.

Clarke ran for the nearest vacant elevator, slamming at least five or six floor buttons in her haste to escape an explanation.

That, of course, was in vain, which became abundantly clear when she heard Lexa’s voice call out something indecipherable and a passing employee stuck their hand between the closing doors valiantly.

Lexa stepped on right as they began to close again, and she and Clarke were both enveloped in the steel contraption as it began its descent upon _every damn floor_ Clarke had pushed.

Clarke felt her cheeks burn crimson red. What a royal disaster.

“Clarke.” Lexa turned to her, a smile absent on her features.

“Good morning, Lexa.” Clarke breathed, feeling very small in her corner of the elevator.

“Tell me, is it routine for you to press every button available on the elevator panel? Or is that only when you’re avoiding me?” Lexa asked wryly, raising a brow as Clarke began to stumble over her own words.

Clarke glanced up at the brightly lit ceiling, trying desperately to tune out Lexa’s words in exchange for the awful elevator music. “Um….” She began. “I saw you with Niylah, and…I didn’t want you to think I was listening, or anything…”

“The guilty man is the one who runs, Clarke.” Lexa spoke sagely, eyes burning through Clarke’s poorly crafted guise of nonchalance.

“I’m not a man, so…” Clarke tried desperately. How lame.

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind.” Lexa retorted, eyes rolling as the elevator kept stopping for the sole reason of Clarke’s poorly constructed escape route.

Clarke couldn’t help the offended face she wore after that.

“Your affairs with Niylah are your own. Don’t expect me to have time for such trivial things.” Lexa broke the silence that snaked its way between them.

Clarke couldn’t help it. She might have been spending too much time with Raven. She rolled her eyes. “As if _that’s_ what I was worried about.”

Lexa turned to face her fully, a look of disbelief on her face. “It wasn’t?”

Clarke scoffed, playing her bluff to the fullest extent. “Hah. No. Everyone knows the _commander_ is too cold to actually have interest in anyone.”

And with that, and Lexa’s scoff of disbelief, she hurried off the elevator- at the wrong floor no less, with a rapidly fading spark of satisfaction.

Then she mentally kicked herself. She needed to be closer to Lexa, not at odds with her. For Bellamy’s sake.

* * *

 

Clarke had spent the entire day doing senseless work for Anya. Lexa hadn’t bothered to help her out, likely due to the elevator debacle. Clarke sighed internally, mostly from embarrassment. What had come over her? That was her boss.

Clarke was filing the last of her paperwork when she finally heard movement from Lexa’s office. It was officially evening, and every sane person had already retired for the day and went home. The only ones left were some office clerks and of course Anya, who apparently had no life beyond serving Lexa and the company. And antagonizing Clarke.

Lexa’s door opened, and without coming into Clarke’s office, like she might have done before, she slipped past.

This was an oddity. And Clarke had to keep track of any and all oddities. This had _nothing_ to do with their little spat earlier. Absolutely nothing.

Clarke tiptoed from her desk to peek her head out into the hallway. She could still faintly hear Anya’s voice from the opposite door, cast towards the phone in a heated conversation about something like taxes.

Lexa was nearly at the end of the hall, and Clarke noticed she’d changed her clothes. She was wearing a black vest and jeans, and her formal business attire was gone.

Lexa never left early, and she sure as hell never left looking like _that._

Clarke decided she was going to follow her. After all, she was just the leader of an incredibly successful and dangerous street gang, right? What could happen?

Clarke ran back to her office, grabbing the trench coat draped over the chair. She’d brought it for the rain that was currently pummeling the streets, but she was thankful that she had it. She practically threw it on as she hurried to catch the next available elevator.

* * *

 

The wind was biting Clarke’s face. The rain was beating down on the sidewalk she was currently on, and she could hardly see. All this to follow Lexa, who unflinchingly strode on into the cold DC night. She wrapped her jacket closer to her body, losing hope that the walking would bring her any kind of heat. Walking behind Lexa kind of did, though.

The buildings were towering over her, and she glanced at her own soaking reflection in the window of a store every now and then. They were nearing the East side, Clarke’s home, and Bellamy’s territory. Clarke hadn’t bothered to wonder why. She remained a respectful two or three buildings back, counting on the rain and fog to keep Lexa from seeing her.

The clouds were settling in over the moon, and if Clarke had a damned second, she would’ve enjoyed taking the time to remember how they looked for a reference when she’d paint later.

She couldn’t of course, because Lexa was apparently bionic and had endlessly long and powerful strides. And god, did she always have that figure? ‘ _Focus, you idiot. She just turned that corner’._ Clarke scolded herself.

She’d followed Lexa for blocks. Why wasn’t Lexa taking her car? Or Lincoln? Or Anya or Gustus or anyone from her usual posse? It struck Clarke as odd. Very odd.

She’d spoken too soon. Clarke rounded a corner and then quickly threw herself behind the wall once more, when she’d realized that there was an open parking lot behind a tall building.

In that parking lot, if Clarke could tell correctly with all the rain, and fog, was Gustus. Leaning against his parked car, Gustus was holding a limp figure. Lincoln was there too, rain soaked and unbroken, holding another limp looking figure as well.

Clarke’s heart raced when she saw who Lincoln was holding. That boy, one of Bellamy’s. What was his name? Dax? He was a hulk of a man, at least two feet taller than Bellamy. Clarke had seen him around a few times. He looked utterly defeated in Lincoln’s grip, bruised and battered.

Clarke felt sick. They were going to kill them, weren’t they? She did the mental math. This was still very much Grounder territory. That confirmed her fears.

The other girl she recognized, though she couldn’t name. Clarke had seen her before, a lively girl with auburn hair and a cocky smirk. Her hair, soaked, clung to her forehead now. She looked lifeless under Gustus’ hold.

Clarke watched with agony as Lexa approached the two, and they straightened up like soldiers before a commanding officer.

Lexa had them trained well. They respected her. And that was always better than fear.

Lexa stepped forward, and Clarke had to move forward to get a better view. The night air sharpened her senses, it seemed.

Lexa knelt forward, taking the girl’s face into her hands. Clarke held her breath.

Lexa rose then, turning to ask Gustus something indecipherable over the sound of the storm and rain.  Gustus pointed towards the east, and Clarke felt numb. They’d been sent by Bellamy, no doubt.

Clarke steeled herself. Bellamy would want her to intervene. To do something. To do anything to save the lives of-

Clarke’s internal dialogue was cut off by the sound of two cars approaching from the street behind the lot, across from Clarke.

Not just any cars. Police cruisers. Clarke’s heart stopped beating. They’d finally found Lexa, caught red handed. She was going to be arrested. They were going to get her, and Bellamy, and everyone involved.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up from the nightmare unraveling before her.

And then Clarke saw something she’d only ever heard of. The officer in the front seat of the first car rolled down his window and called something to Lexa. She turned, and when they saw who it was that they were addressing, they simply offered her a smile, rolled up their windows, and turned back down the street they came from.

Clarke had never seen anything quite so terribly powerful in her lifetime. The only other person she knew to have that kind of power was Bellamy. And that was even debatable.

Lexa Woods turned the police away at a very obvious crime scene, red handed. And she hadn’t even flashed a smile.

Clarke Griffin feared for her life in that moment.

But before she could step forward to play the valiant hero and likely meet an early demise, she froze, due to what she heard come out of Lexa’s mouth as she turned to leave.

“Take them back. Alive.” Her voice was terse, and it left no room for argument.

Still, Gustsus tried. “Heda, they were directly viola-”

“No more bloodshed, Gustus.” Lexa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not tonight, anyway.”

Lincoln nodded, pulling Gustus by the arm. “Come on! Help me get them in the car.”

Lexa turned, making her way towards the back street. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She called, turning the street corner.

Clarke wheeled around, turning back towards the street she’d been occupying. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts together as she hurriedly attempted to make her way back home. This continued for about five solid minutes, until realization dawned on Clarke.

She was hopelessly lost. In her haste to follow Lexa, she’d forgotten to notice where exactly she was. And without using her better judgement and taking out her phone for the map function, she attempted to prove to herself that she was in fact competent all on her own. She began to make a left, trying to identify the buildings she might have noticed by chance on her trek following Lexa.

Clarke narrowed her eyes in a squint, attempting to see in front of her. She rounded the corner, and then screamed when she landed flat on her ass, right on the pavement. She’d tripped over something, which she’d now realized was a leg.

Lexa’s leg.

She swore she saw the flash of something steel- a knife, in Lexa’s hand, before it disappeared at the flick of Lexa’s wrist. Fantastic. She carried a switchblade with her.

“Clarke!” Lexa hissed, turning around and quickly pulling her up.’

 Clarke saw the hint of worry in her eyes. _Good_ , her ass was probably going to be bruised for a month.

“I…Oh, shit.” Clarke mumbled, feeling incredibly screwed. The dread and immensity of the situation filled her.

“No elevator for you to hide in now, Clarke.” Lexa muttered as she pulled Clarke along with her, under the awning of the closest shop.

“That’s not…” Clarke sighed. “I’m not hiding.” That was the worst lie she’d ever told.

“No? Then you’ve just been following me for blocks without saying anything?” Lexa snapped, and her voice was cold, commanding. Clarke understood the nickname.

“You knew for that long and you didn’t say anything?” Clarke nearly mumbled. _Of course she knew_. She was a god damn mafia leader. A killer. With people trying to kill her.

“Honestly, I was waiting to see how long until you’d give up.” Lexa’s answer was sour. “I didn’t think it was you.”

“Would you have tripped me if you’d known it was me?” Clarke grumbled, feeling her own hand slide to her now numb, wet backside.

“Depends.” Lexa crossed her arms. “Why are you following me, Clarke?”

Clarke swallowed thickly, rocking back on her heels awkwardly. “I…ah…I was worried.”

“Worried?” Lexa echoed, and Clarke saw her features soften instantly.

There was no way in hell Clarke was going to admit she’s witnessed that scene.

The only reason she wasn’t consumed by guilt entirely in that moment was because it wasn’t entirely a lie.

She _was_ worried about Lexa.

“Yeah.” Clarke nodded, feeling a little courage spread through her at Lexa’s softening expression. “It’s night, and you’re alone, and after what happened with…Those people…” She shrugged, trying to refer to Bellamy discreetly.

“Clarke.” Lexa cut her off. “I’m alright. I can handle myself.”

“Right.” Clarke nodded, clapping her hands together awkwardly. “My ass tells me you’re probably right, so…”

Lexa couldn’t help the delicate laugh that escaped her lips. Clarke thought it was pure magic. The way it electrified her. The way she suddenly forgot how could and wet she was, or how much danger she could have been in.

“I’ll get going.” Clarke sighed. She turned, and then realized that she still had no clue where she was.

Lexa raised a brow, watching her with the ghost of an amused look. “Let me walk you home, Clarke.” Her words were more sincere than her expression.

“Oh, that’s hardly fair, I just stalked you.” Clarke blurted out, shaking her head. “Besides, I know exactly-”

“You live past Broad street, right, Clarke?” Lexa guessed casually.

“Mhmm.” Clarke nodded, hoping Lexa would spare her the embarrassment and leave her to crumble in the rain and call a cab or something.

“That’s _this_ way.” Lexa put her arms around Clarke’s waist and practically forced her into a 180 degree turn. Clarke’s cheeks burned with embarrassment despite the rosy hue they already earned from the cold. “Let me call you a cab…” Lexa offered.

“I can call one.” Clarke replied uneasily.

Lexa waved her hand up dismissively. That was the final word on the subject, and Clarke knew.

They were on their way home within minutes. Clarke didn’t know how to feel regarding the night’s events, so she let the cold air sober her up when she stepped outside the cab. Lexa stepped out as well, as she watched the cab speed off.

“Didn’t you…need that to get home?” Clarke asked awkwardly, holding her key in her limp, cold hand.

“I prefer jogging.” Lexa motioned to her outfit. “It helps me…clear my mind.” She murmured as she eyed Clarke’s building.

“Is that safe? Given your…situation?” Clarke asked, genuinely curious and perhaps a bit concerned. “I mean, I can only patch up so many wounds…”

“I’ll be fine, Clarke.” Lexa’s tone was sure. She turned to leave, but froze when Clarke suddenly  grabbed her arm. Clarke realized that sudden aggressive movements maybe weren’t the best choice with Lexa Woods.

Luckily, Lexa didn’t shank her out of pure reflexive movement. Instead, she tilted her head, the way Clarke _just adored_. She glanced at Clarke curiously, wordlessly.

“Come inside.” Clarke breathed out. When she saw Lexa’s furtive glance, she added, “For some tea, or coffee…at least some water. I owe you that much.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Lexa spoke somewhat stiffly.

“Oh, please.” Clarke rolled her eyes. She’d spent the majority of their weird relationship spying on her. She felt an obligation. Besides, it was helping Bellamy. And that was all that mattered. “Shut up.”

Lexa looked surprised before cracking a small, very faint smile. She reminded Clarke of a little girl sometimes. It was fascinating.

Clarke moved to let go of her arm and open the door. She noticed, when Lexa bent over to tie her shoe beside her, the faintest hint of something black on the back of her neck, the rest covered by her clothing.

God, what she wouldn’t give to see Lexa Wood’s tattoo.

As they stepped in, Clarke thanked the heavens that she’d cleaned up the dirty clothes lying around. From what she knew about Lexa, she was a neat freak. The apartment, small and quaint, was littered with Clarke’s artwork. She’d put just about everything she’d ever made out, deciding what needed to go into the trash for space reasons.

“Oh my god.” Lexa breathed, and Clarke felt like an idiot. She’d invited her neat freak boss up to her pig sty of an apartment.

“I am s _o_ sorry.” Clarke slapped her forehead. “This is disgusting. I’m sorry. I just put everything out, because I wanted to make room, and I had to decide what I wanted to throw away, and-”

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was breathy. Clarke looked up in confusion to see that Lexa made a beeline for the nearest painting, an older one of Clarke’s, of the city skyline at sunset. “Shut up.” She echoed Clarke’s words from moments earlier.

She was so out of it that Clarke had to wonder if some paint fumes had gotten into her system, even though the bottle said they didn’t do that.

“Lexa…?” Clarke questioned unsurely.

“Clarke.” Lexa answered, eyes roaming the expanse of the room. Her fingers traced the brush strokes, and Clarke had to wonder what it would be like to use Lexa’s body- taut and graceful, as her own personal canvas.

She hoped Lexa didn’t notice the chills she got as she made her way over to the kitchen to get some tea started.

“You…did…all of this?” Lexa managed, still moving from piece to piece.

“I did…I used to be better, but…med school happened, and I never really-”Clarke couldn’t finish.

“Clarke.” Lexa sighed, and it sounded like the sigh of someone who’d just seen the sun pass over the sky and into the waves at sunset, or someone who’d seen the first fresh snowfall of the winter. Longing and admiration of utter brilliance and beauty. “These are incredible.”

“Thank you…” Clarke replied, meeting Lexa’s eyes. Suddenly her legs felt numb and she felt the overwhelming need to sit. “Maybe you could help me decide which ones to keep?”

Lexa seemed to startle at those words. “Keep? You’d really throw these away? Your own work?” She sounded genuinely disbelieving.

“I have to.” Clarke shrugged. “I’m out of space.”

“I’ll take them.” Lexa spoke instantly.

“You what?” Clarke scoffed, leaning over the counter. “They’re trash, where would you even put them?”

“My office.” Lexa’s response was instant. “The halls, the lobby. God, these deserve to be in museums, Clarke. In galleries, with gilded frames and ardent admirers and critics.”

Clarke suddenly felt the sensation of tears pricking at the back of her eyes. No one had ever appreciated her accomplishments like that before. She certainly never had herself. Not Bellamy, not Octavia or Raven, not her mother…She stopped, forcing herself to stop before she made a seen.

“Lexa.” She took a breath, grabbing two mugs. “That’s really sweet, but…You wouldn’t want these. You can buy something a lot nicer for a company like yours.”

“Art is subjective, Clarke. They say that a piece will mean a lot more if it’s of sentimental value…” Lexa trailed off, her eyes falling to Clarke’s kitchen table. On it was her sketchbook, open to her favorite sketch of Lexa, smiling at something Clarke had told her. Her eyes were carefree, and bright. Her smile was intoxicating.

“What’s-”Before Lexa could even finish, Clarke snapped the sketchpad up, tucking it under her arm.

How mortifying.

“That’s trash.” Clarke spoke quickly, sliding Lexa a mug of tea. “Here.”

Lexa didn’t drink her tea much at all, at first, Instead her eyes were trained on Clarke, staring as if someone had told her Clarke came from a different planet entirely.

She was snapped out of her reverie when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She whipped it out and mumbled an apology to Clarke before picking it up. All she said was, “Fine. Twenty minutes. Bye.” Before hanging up hurriedly.

Lexa set her tea on the counter, and Clarke tried to school her features. “I’m sorry Clarke.” She sighed. “Something came up. That was Anya. I have to meet her.”

Clarke rose from her chair. “I could come with you?” She offered, rather awkwardly.

Lexa shook her head. “No, you’ve done enough. Thank you, for everything.”

Clarke couldn’t help her curiosity. “Where are you going?” She asked, in fear for her people, she reminded herself.

Lexa glanced at her curiously.

“Stay away from the south side, it’s not safe.” Clarke added.

Lexa tilted her head, and Clarke realized she’d just given away one of Bellamy’s secrets. “What do you mean? How do you know?” Her voice was suddenly dripping with suspicion.

Clarke felt sick. “I…overheard….The Blakes talking about it at the fundraising event.” She lied. She’d heard Raven talking about it with Octavia before she’d left the day before.

Lexa looked doubtful for a moment, before seeming to process the idea. She nodded, and then smiled. “Thank you, Clarke. You’re turning out to be a very valuable…asset, to the company and myself.”

“I do what I can…” Clarke returned her smile, watching as Lexa headed for the door. Before she did, she stopped, eyeing Clarke’s door.

“What…are you doing?” Clarke asked quizzically. “Not that I mind you staying, but…”

“I’m inspecting your locks.” Lexa replied nonchalantly.

 Clarke’s heart just about melted. Sure, it was weird as hell, but Lexa was worried about her safety.

“The verdict?” Clarke asked curiously.

“They’re crap.” Lexa replied, pressing her lips together. “Goodnight, Clarke.” She turned, eyeing Clarke with the hint of a smile.

“Goodnight, Lexa.” Clarke shut the door behind her, smiling still, long after Lexa had left.

* * *

 

The following morning, Clarke had woken up to the sound of a text message long before an alarm. It was from Raven. Opening it up with a sleepy haze still fresh in her mind, she squinted as she struggled to read the message with tired eyes.

It read:

_Hey C. Bell is going crazy over here. We lost a shipment on the south side. I wouldn’t come in for lunch break today, just wait till he cools off._

Clarke, although internally a conflicting nightmare of emotions, couldn't help the smile that graced her face the entire morning as she got ready for work. 

If only she knew what the day had in store for her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. I know it was a much shorter chapter, but it will fluctuate sometimes. If you enjoyed or have any critiques/suggestions, I adore getting comments here or on Tumblr at Effortlessly-Opulent (There's also story art, asks, updates, etc.)
> 
> Next Time:  
> Clarke saves a life, *a certain pair* goes on a date, and Clarke learns a powerful truth.


	5. Without an Anchor

 

Clarke had never seen Lexa Woods so happy, in the time that she’d known her. It wasn’t completely unusual for Lexa to throw a few smiles in Clarke’s direction if their eyes met during a hallway passing or break. But this? This was unprecedented. Lexa was actually chipper. Even though she’d never admit it, or even alter her business demeanor.

Clarke had noticed since she’d arrived, at nine in the morning. The building was already humming to life; interns, pharmacists, the legal team- everyone was reporting to their usual battle stations for the usual war against time to get work done. Clarke had even received a few friendly smiles from some people that _weren’t_ Lincoln, _for once_ , and she’d even been feeling the vibes of happiness.

Clarke was so ecstatic to not be the most hated person in the building anymore, so much so, that she collided with Nia, who’d been angrily blazing a trail out of the elevator Clarke was about to enter.

So much for that notion. It was fun for the two point five seconds it had lasted.

It was totally Nia’s fault. And if Clarke weren’t talking to one of the company’s longest running shareholders, that would’ve been one of the first things out of her mouth.

Nia hardly stumbled, mostly because Clarke took the brunt of the impact, which sent her on a direct crash course to the floor, coffee in hand.

In that split second, she squeezed her eyes shut, ready for the scalding hot liquid to eat away at her prone body, and Nia’s words to burn even more so. She readied herself for the hard impact of the floor, desperately willing her head not to make any contact with the newly buffed surface.

She never hit the floor.

In fact, her coffee didn’t either. Instead, she fell backwards onto something rather soft, and her coffee ended up hovering just above her head, held by a delicate hand. She knew that hand.

“Clarke! Are you alright?” She heard Lexa’s voice right behind her ear as she straightened up, cheeks burning with the humiliation she felt coursing through her. She felt electrified and overwhelmed by a sweet smelling perfume that made her want to inhale nothing else in the world.

That intoxicating combination of qualities…

Of course it had to be Lexa.

Clarke brushed her clothes off needlessly, eyes slowly inching their way up to see Lexa’s face. She had her hair casually parted to the side, rather than a more professional bun or ponytail. Clarke was absolutely mesmerized by the way the golden light framed her so angelically from the windows behind her.

What she would give to have a canvas and a brush at that moment. Lexa Woods was art. Clarke tore her gaze from Lexa’s gilded form to her curious eyes, with just a little worry showing on the surface. Clarke felt a small tug in her chest and took a breath.

“My savior.” She grinned at Lexa. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to. “I seem to fall a lot for- I…erm…mean…around you.” 

Lexa matched her smile with one of humor. “May I always be there to catch you, then.” Their eyes locked in a beautiful trance of emerald and cerulean, and Clarke felt the breath knocked out of her lungs far more than any fall could ever cause.

“Ahem.” Nia’s cough shook the two from their shared reverie, and Clarke swore she saw Lexa roll her eyes for a fraction of a second.

“Nia, do be careful.” Lexa’s tone was like a mother scolding a child for running in the house. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

Clarke’s eyes widened and her jaw nearly dropped. She had to keep herself from laughing.

Lexa was defending her.

“I was.” Nia replied stiffly, wrinkling her nose in distaste, yet knowing better than to challenge Lexa. “Too bad our resident doctor here isn’t an optometrist. I think the poor thing needs glasses.” Her reply was curt and she brushed past Clarke less than gracefully, straightening her jacket.

“Too bad you’re not a proctologist.” Lexa sighed, gently tugging Clarke into the elevator as it closed behind them. “Because she has _such_ a stick up her _ass_.”

Clarke couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of her as Lexa joined in softly, handing her coffee back to Clarke.

“Seriously…” Clarke managed after a particularly hard gasp. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t mean to hit your investor…I swear, she-”

“Shh, Clarke.” Lexa put her hand up in the air regally, a symbol Clarke came to realize meant silence. “I know. I saw.”

Clarke nodded, leaning back against the hand rail provided in the elevator. “So…how did you catch me _and_ my coffee?” she teased. She felt Lexa’s eyes roam her figure, clad in her doctor’s jacket, jeans, and shirt that she _may_ have chosen because of how it displayed her chest.

Well, it paid off.

Lexa shrugged. “You were kind of the priority. The coffee was…an added bonus.”

Clarke eyed her as the door opened. “They don’t call you the commander for nothing, I suppose.” She remarked, motioning for Lexa to lead the way to their hallway and offices.

Lexa tilted her head cutely, smirking. “I guess I’m just good with my hands.” She brushed past Clarke, heading straight for her office, where Anya was probably waiting like a loyal golden retriever.

Clarke was pretty sure she was enjoying the choking sounds she made on her coffee after that.

* * *

 

There was a knock at Clarke’s office door about two hours into her work schedule.

Clarke glanced up, eyes adjusting to the sudden change from paperwork to bright fluorescents. “Come in?”

She couldn’t help the odd tick she felt when Lincoln came in, looking threatening as ever in a tight crewneck that made her wonder if she even belonged to the “fit” category. She did exercise often, but damn, the grounders were just Olympian athletes compared to her.

Whatever secret steroids Lexa probably had them on, Clarke wanted some.

Clarke tried to blink away her memories of Lincoln holding Dax, bruised and battered in the rain, seconds away from ending his entire existence.

“ _Hei,_ Clarke _. Sochu_?” Lincoln’s baritone was calming, and Clarke subconsciously felt her fears melt away.

“Nothing, what’s up with you?” Clarke offered a smile, throwing her pen down, grateful for the break.

“You’re getting better, Clarke.” Lincoln smirked, coming to sit on the edge of Clarke’s desk.

Clarke glanced up at him, feeling a sense of pride. She really was coming along, wasn’t she?

Bellamy would be proud. She felt a knot in her stomach when his image appeared in her mind, his tears, his desperation. She shook it off wearily.

“Pretty soon, _Heda’_ s gonna need a new language.” He added, eyes flicking up to Anya’s door as she pressed it open, coming to stand beside Lincoln as she folded her arms over her chest.

“I know, I know.” Clarke sighed, picking her pen back up as she eyed the brunette woman. “I’m working.”

Anya gave Clarke the absolute tiniest hint of what was possibly a smile. Clarke wasn’t sure. She’d never seen Anya do anything remotely friendly. “No, Clarke.” She shook her head. “We came here to thank you.”

Clarke felt her heart rise and sink in a matter of seconds. That’s why everyone was so happy. They secured the south border. At the expense of her real family.

“I didn’t know you had it in you to listen in on the Blake’s at the fundraiser, Clarke.” Anya admitted, evading any and all eye contact. She sounded like she was in pain at the mere thought of admitting she was wrong.

Clarke wanted to enjoy it, and she would’ve, if guilt hadn’t been gnawing at her very soul.

“I…didn’t either.” Clarke sighed, forcing a small smile.

 “You helped Lexa. And that’s a plus in my book.” Anya continued, and Lincoln nodded, showing his agreement. “So from now on…I suppose you don’t have to do the menial crap I had you doing. You can stick to the case studies and medical reports. You’ve earned that much, newcomer.”

Clarke leaned back in her chair, straightening her back in what she assumed was an uncontrollable response of pride. “Thank you, Anya.” Clarke only held her intense brown gaze for a few seconds before feeling the guilt.

“But let’s talk seriously for a second.” Lincoln smirked, eyeing Clarke with curiosity. “How did you manage to _break_ the commander?”

“I…don’t…what?” Clarke stuttered. They were on to her. They knew. They were going to fill her body with piping hot lead bullets and hide her body. She was a goner. She-

“She could’ve let you fall, this morning, in the elevator.” Lincoln added, exchanging a glance with Anya.

_Oh. So they weren’t actually on to her._

Clarke rolled her eyes. “She’s a decent human being. She wouldn’t let anyone just…fall.”

Anya and Lincoln both looked at each other before bursting into laughter, so much so that Clarke felt as if she hadn’t been let in on an inside joke. That she apparently just told.

“You clearly don’t know her.” Anya commented wryly. “Why do you think she’s the commander?”

Clarke turned beet red, and felt her heart racing. Lexa caught her. What did that mean, exactly? Were they becoming friends? Good acquaintances at least? God, Clarke hoped they could at least call each other that much.

“Haukom yu kamp raun hir?” A low, velvety voice commanded from the doorway.

Anya and Lincoln both rose to attention, like trained soldiers, missing only the salute.

Lexa was leaning against the doorframe, an amused look on her face. “I wasn’t aware we held meetings in Clarke’s office….without _me_.”

“We’ll get going.” Lincoln nodded as he stepped past her, Anya turning back to her office.

Lexa remained in the doorway, calling out to Anya. “I’m going out for a few. You know what to do.”

Clarke couldn’t help but stare at Lexa. Where was she going? Was it safe? Was she going alone?

“You have a question, Clarke?” Lexa eyed her, scrutinizing her expression. “Your face would imply that you do.”

_‘Where the hell are you going?’_ Clarke internally shouted _. “_ No, _Ms. Woods_.” Clarke replied apologetically, turning her attention back to her papers.

Lexa remained casually in her doorway, glossy black knee-high boot propped up against the door, arms folded casually. She took off her coat, revealing surprisingly toned arms Clarke could see through a black, sleeved shirt.

She kept glancing at Lexa, unable to contain herself, periodically looking at her work. She began to tap her feet anxiously. Should she have said something? Was something unclear?

Finally, Lexa broke the rigid silence. “Alright, come on.” She beckoned to Clarke with her hand. “You can come.”

Clarke rose from her seat instantly, throwing off her work jacket. “Uh…are you sure?”

Lexa smirked. “Well, you’re just going to follow and stalk me if I don’t invite you, right?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. Of course she still remembered the incident of the night prior. Was she ever going to let Clarke live that down? Her cheeks turned red, not for the first time that morning.

“Shut up.” Clarke grumbled. “Where are you going, anyway?”

“To get lunch, actually.” Lexa replied casually.

Clarke immediately felt like an idiot. So much for digging into their affairs if she was just out for lunch. Yet, something in her, though she’d never admit it, was secretly excited at the prospect of having some time with Lexa.

To _spy_ on her, of course, she reminded herself.

“You eat lunch?” Clarke feigned surprise. “I thought the commander lived off the souls of her enemies?”

This time Lexa rolled her eyes. “I could leave you behind, if you’d like, Dr. Griffin.”

“Right, coming.” Clarke grabbed her phone off the desk and shoved it in her back pocket. “So what does the famous Ms. Woods eat for lunch, anyway?”

“Usually a granola bar and a protein shake.” Lexa commented, watching Clarke’s expression of horror with a look of mild bewilderment.

“No wonder you’ve got such an amazing figure.” Clarke grumbled, and then slapped a hand over her mouth when Lexa froze, watching her with an expression of surprise.

“Do I?” Lexa cocked her head to the side, and Clarke just about melted, because that was her favorite Lexa-expression of all time.

Not that she was keeping track.

“Um. Yeah.” Clarke nodded, feeling like a complete loser. Her heart was the only thing outracing her tendency to make stupid comments. “I’m a _doctor_. I would know.” She tried to save face, but it was too late.

“Fine, then.” Lexa’s step had an extra bounce in it, and Clarke noticed her cocky smile. “You may choose our lunch, _Dr. Griffin.”_

* * *

 

Clarke had chosen the food, and Lexa had chosen the park they ate at.

In all fairness, Clarke should’ve known Lexa would choose something as secluded, isolated and beautiful as Lexa was herself. It consisted of a dirt pathway, wrapping its way around a small lake, if it could be called that. Lines of blossom trees surrounded the pathway, their petals adorning the air and the ground all around them.

It was off one of the main streets, and Clarke scolded herself for never having found it herself. She’d been living in D.C. long enough.

Lexa was full of little secrets like that. Clarke was enjoying watching her unravel, little by little, thread by thread.

Clarke’s internal musings were interrupted by a particularly noticeable moan, emitted from Lexa’s mouth.The next time Lexa moaned like that, Clarke wanted it to be under very, very different circumstances.

What was she even _thinking_? She was supposed to be paying attention to any oddities that Lexa might mention in passing.

But watching her devour that jalapeno burger had Clarke’s thoughts jumbled and her mouth watering and dry all at once, and oh-god the way she licked her lips after a particularly spicy bite.

“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice woke her from her observations. “You’re not eating.”

“That’s because I’m pretty sure it’ll kill me.” Clarke commented, glancing down at the burger in her hand. It was a work of art, and sure, if Clarke were alone, it probably would be nothing more than a wrapper and regrets by that point.

But watching Lexa filled a very different hunger Clarke hadn’t really realized she possessed.

“I feel so, so guilty.” Lexa mumbled, biting a jalapeno. “But I haven’t enjoyed anything as much as this in…years, maybe.” Lexa groaned again. “You are officially a bad influence, Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke smirked, taking a bite into her own burger. “I didn’t tell you to get it extra spicy.”

Lexa mirrored her expression, tossing her wrapper into the nearby trashcan, an arm’s distance away from the bench. “What’s wrong Dr. Griffin? Can’t handle a little… _heat_?”

Clarke had to exert an unusual amount of energy to keep from choking on her next bite. Swallowing, she shook her head, suddenly needing to change the subject. “So, can I ask you something?”

Lexa eyed her with a spark of interest, licking her lips. Her eyes flickered from a falling blossom back to Clarke, who waited earnestly. “Alright, Clarke.”

Clarke set her food down for a moment, meeting her gaze. “How did you get to be where you are?” Lexa’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Clarke realized she needed to be more thorough. “I mean…look at you. You’re what…twenty-five? Twenty-six? And you have this….empire. And you handle it with this….I don’t know….” She shook her head, suddenly feeling very impassioned about her monologue. “-grace. You handle yourself like you have everything together, and you’re so elegant…” Clarke couldn’t make her words fit the way she’d hoped for. She sighed, leaning back against the wooden bench. “Sorry, if I sound like a moron.”

Lexa didn’t respond, not immediately. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were in a pleasant shock, and her eyes flashed with something Clarke couldn’t quite pin. And then she offered Clarke a soft smile, her cheeks suddenly rosy. “Thank you…Clarke. I don’t know what to say. Except…I think you might have me wrong.”

Clarke leaned forward, at odds with Lexa’s denial. How could she not see herself that way? “How so?” She challenged.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Lexa replied after a moment of brief hesitation. She was finally opening up to Clarke, letting her in. “Shall we?” She motioned to the path.

Clarke nodded, tossing her leftovers in the trash. She made her way to Lexa’s side as the two traveled down the dirt path, blossoms trodden beneath their steps.

“Do you have the time?” Lexa asked suddenly, eyeing Clarke’s watch.

Clarke paused, reaching into her back pocket for her phone. “We have about half an hour.” She replied.

Lexa frowned. “Can you not read the time from your watch, Clarke?”

Clarke’s face turned to one of utter embarrassment. “No, uh…Of course I can.” She assured Lexa. “It’s just…it doesn’t work anymore.”

Lexa’s frown deepened. “Is Anya not paying you an acceptable salary? Because I can-”

“No, Lexa, it’s not like that.” Clarke smiled amusedly, putting her hand up. “This was my father’s. I just never had the heart to get it fixed.”

“I can give it to a secretary to drop off at a repair service.” Lexa offered, and Clarke’s heart melted completely. Was she even real? How the hell was this woman a gangster?

“It’s not that I can’t…” Clarke sighed. Why was she even saying this? “I don’t know. It’s stupid, okay?”

Lexa cocked her head to the side, and Clarke’s heart fluttered. “You don’t have to tell me, Clarke.” She offered genuinely.

Clarke took a deep breath. She hadn’t really revealed this to anyone. Maybe it was time to give Lexa something real, and genuine about her. Consequences be damned. “My father…didn’t make the best choices. I’m not proud of what he became. He passed away in an accident. I wear the watch to remember him, but I don’t get it fixed, because…well, that way it’s imperfect, just like him.”

Lexa nodded slowly, her eyes finding Clarke’s in a moment of true understanding. “I know what it is like to be without their counsel.” Her eyes flicked to the lake, the placid waters suddenly churning with a gust of wind. Clarke’s heart started racing, nearly out of her chest when Lexa’s fingertips brushed against hers. Was she reaching for Clarke’s hand? “Mine-”

Her voice was cut off by a blaring ring, which, as Clarke came to realize, was Anya’s number calling Lexa’s cell.

“ _Chit yu gaf,_ Anya?” _What do you want, Anya?_ Lexa’s voice was more than annoyed, and she shot an apologetic glance towards Clarke, who listened in very curiously.

Lexa’s expression turned to one of horror, her soft features twisting into those of shock. “What? _Hashta Klark?”_ _What about Clarke?_ Lexa then narrowed her eyes,

Clarke blinked, thinking she’d misheard. What _abou_ t her?

Lexa hung up with a few rushed words that Clarke couldn’t understand. “We need to go, Clarke, now!”

Clarke’s body jolted to life. “What? Where? What happened?”

Lexa grabbed her arm, but not in the way Clarke had been so anxious for, moments earlier. She broke into a full on sprint back to the car, literally pulling Clarke alongside her.

“Lexa?!” Clarke called desperately after her. “What the hell is happening?”

“Someone is hurt, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice indicated that she was hardly paying attention to Clarke, or anything else in that moment. Her brunette locks fell behind her shoulders as she ran, and Clarke could barely understand what had just happened.

“Who?” Clarke demanded, struggling to keep up with Lexa’s sprinting strides.

“Just get in the car and be ready to run out to your office.” Lexa’s voice _commanded._ It actually _commanded._ Any humanity, any sense of affection she might have had were long gone, lost to the winds of this apparent injury.

Clarke thought it an oddity. And she wasn’t sure why it stung so much, dammit.

They left behind the park with the lake, and the blossom trees, their secrets and connections, and the only opportunity Clarke had with Lexa.

Something was very different, and it sat terribly in Clarke’s gut.

Everything was going to change.

* * *

 

The wordless drive was one of the tensest experiences Clarke had ever endured, worse than her mother and father’s endless bickering during the fall of their marriage. It was silence, the deafening kind that begged to be filled, but Clarke didn’t have the heart to say anything.

Lexa had driven at breakneck speeds to pull into Grounder Corp.’s back parking lot with about twenty minutes, the car parked awkwardly as Lexa hopped off, Clarke in tow, and tossed the keys to one of her people, who’d been expecting her.

Lexa practically dragged Clarke through the back entrance and up the reserve elevator, despite Clarke’s numerous protests.

“Lexa, _please_.” Clarke’s eyes and tone begged for acknowledgement, for explanation. “Tell me what’s going on. I’m scared…” She admitted shyly, her heart hammering.

Had they finally figured it out? Was Lexa taking her to the top of the building only to throw her off?

At Clarke’s confession of fear, Lexa looked up at her, her sharp verdant gaze softening for a fraction of a second. “Don’t be, Clarke.” She answered firmly, and Clarke resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Not even an answer then.

The elevator doors rolled open, and Clarke found the executive floor to be absolute chaos. There were interns pacing back and forth with something in their hands- were those…towels? And at the very forefront of it all was Anya, standing in the doorway to Clarke’s office, hands up against the frames.

She was blocking Nia from going any further.

Nia was there, eyes wide. “Anya, step aside! Honestly, what is the meaning of this?” She demanded.

Lexa’s eyes widened upon seeing that and Clarke heard her mutter something very unprofessional.

“It’s a copying machine malfunction.” Anya’s voice was calm, with a hint of agitation. If it were any other circumstance, Clarke would have taken the time to properly laugh at her.

Who was in there, waiting for her aid? The thought shook Clarke. She imagined someone she loved lying on that bed. Bellamy. Octavia. Raven, Murphy, Monty…She felt chills run up her arm.

“Alexandria!” Nia called sternly, turning with a huff when she saw Lexa appear, Clarke in tow.

“Nia, please move, so that we can…fix the situation.” Lexa spoke once, sternly, nearly grinding her teeth against each other.

Nia stepped back unsurely. “This place has been absolutely chaotic since your parents’ passing, Alexandria Woods!”

Clarke’s hand flew to her mouth. Lexa’s parents…they passed away…that’s what she was trying to talk to Clarke about earlier. Before this catastrophe.

Clarke thought Lexa was going to turn around and deck the bitch. Instead she saw Lexa’s jaw set, while she froze for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fists.

Anya seemed to notice too, because she practically yanked Clarke and Lexa in, and shut the door behind them before a single word could be uttered.

Clarke nearly cringed as a very familiar metallic scent filled the air, attacking her senses. Blood. Her instincts as a doctor began to kick in, but they all but faded from shock when she saw who it was on the bed.

Lincoln, shirt all but ripped off, lying face down. He would occasionally writhe in agony, and Clarke felt part of her heart break for her friend.

Lexa began muttering something under her breath, throwing her attention to Gustus, who stood over the crumpled for. “How is he?”

Gustus grunted, watching Lincoln’s eyes shut and open in agony. “Shot. Bullet’s still in his back. Maybe two.”

Lexa’s eyes widened. She took in the blood that stained his shirt, Gustus’ hands and clothing, and all the bleached white surfaces Clarke had hated so passionately.

“Clarke!” Lexa turned to her, and Clarke felt as if she’d been slapped. “Help him, now!”

Clarke took a step forward, making sure Gustus was applying pressure to the most obvious wound. Lincoln looked like he was walking the fine line between consciousness and unconsciousness. Clarke bit her lip. “He…. he’s losing a lot of blood. I can do this, but…but I need a hospital, a team…I can’t…” Clarke shook her head.

“No hospitals!” Gustus muttered, shaking his head as if Clarke were a moron for even suggesting the idea.

“Clarke!” Lexa’s pitch was raised as high as it could without Nia hearing and busting down the door herself. “You _will_ do your _damn job_ , and you won’t stop until he’s healed. _Do you understand me_?” Her voice was cold, calculated, and demanding. Like Clarke was a damn dog.

“I…” Clarke put her hands up, running to the sink to wash her hands. “I...” She felt Lexa’s gaze on her, and she couldn’t work.

Lexa seemed to understand this. She threw her hands down to her side and was out of the room like a gust of wind.

It was probably for the best, because Clarke was so emotionally wound and angry at her that she might have ended up taking it out on poor Lincoln.

She grabbed a steel dish and the necessary equipment, as Gustus’ eyes followed her across the room. She grabbed a towel that someone had brought in, and set about to work on Lincoln’s exposed back, his muscles arching up in pain.

“Who shot him?” She murmured, fixating on the first, major wound.

“Arker.” Gustus spat out, rage behind his gaze unmistakable. “He was walking away. Shot right in the back. Fucking cowards, all of them. They’d do that to _heda_ if she wasn’t so careful.” He finished with a watchful eye, watching Clarke’s hands deftly move about the injuries.

Clarke stiffened when she heard that her family was responsible. She thought of how Lexa had spared Dax. How she’d wanted to stop the bloodshed.

After this, it was going to be full out warfare. Lives would be lost. Blood would be spilt.

She wondered who pulled the trigger.

“You have capable hands.” Gustus muttered after a moment of silence. “ _Heda_ trusts you to save Lincoln. She wouldn’t have left you here if she didn’t.” His beard nearly muffled the niceties he was paying Clarke at that moment. Was this his way of comforting her?

Clarke simply nodded for a moment before returning her attention to Lincoln’s battered back. “Hang in there, Lincoln.” She murmured as she removed the first bullet, dropping it into the dish with a clink. “You’re going to be okay.”

* * *

 

Clarke finished in record time, with results that she would even consider boasting about, if she were back in med school. She removed the bullets and closed up the wounds with little to no complications, save for the fact that she had to keep from crying in front of Gustus, and letting her tears fall on her patient’s back.

She wasn’t crying because of the work, or trauma. She was more than used to it. In fact, she didn’t even know _why_ she’d been crying.

That was a lie. She knew _exactly_ why. She casted a furtive glance at Lexa’s office door, which had been slammed shut in the earlier pandemonium. She felt pain bubble inside her as she rinsed the blood off her hands- it was still everywhere on her coat- and slid to the floor, leaning against the wall. She put her head in her hands, trying to clear her thoughts.

In times like these, Clarke liked to map out her standing in the affairs. Simply put- she liked to figure everyone out. To understand why things were happening the way they were.

To understand why people behaved the way they did.

Clarke liked to map her own morals, and the morals of everyone around her, to justify a difficult situation. And her life had been full of those. Her parents’ divorce, her father’s death, her joining with Bellamy and learning the truth about him, lying to Lexa…. It was all so overwhelming now.

Clarke, in the meantime, had discovered her own inability to find solace in the complexity of her situation.

She’d even attempted to busy her hands, while she sat dejectedly on the cold floor, attempting to twirl a pen in her hands the way she’d seen Lexa do with the sharp letter opener.

When Lexa pushed the door open, Clarke dropped the pen with a numb hand and a racing heart.

She didn’t make eye contact with Lexa as she came in, sliding into a sitting position against the wall, right beside Clarke.

For a long while, absolutely nothing was said. Clarke listened to Lexa’s rhythmic breathing, and got a faint hint of her perfume above the blood and bleach smells that were otherwise quite present.

It was a true moment of vulnerability for Lexa, to come in, without a stern gaze or sharp words on the edge of her luscious lips.

And yet Clarke found it to be one of the coldest, heaviest moments the two had ever shared.

It was Clarke, who finally broke the silence. “What the fuck did I just do?” She rasped, not having spoken in a while.

If Lexa was taken aback at all, she certainly didn’t display it on her statuesque features.

A pause, then.

“You saved a life, and you protected the company.” She replied honestly, her voice low and steady.

“Which is what, exactly?” Clarke scoffed. _A gang. A criminal organization. A fucking mess where people killed each other over turf and drugs and all kinds of menial things._

She had to play her part, like an oblivious idiot who knew nothing. It was humiliating.

“It is what it is.” Lexa spoke finally, and she could tell Clarke was frustrated with her lack of honesty. Oh, the irony of it all. “And these people…” Lexa began again, softly this time. “They rely on me. And sometimes…the weight of it all…it’s crushing. But we carry on. We do the right thing.”

Clarke wanted to laugh out loud at that one. How could a murderous gang be anywhere near _“the right thing_ ” ?

“What is the right thing, Lexa?” Clarke pressed on. She knew it was a vague question. They were just jabbing at each other at this point.

“The right thing is what saves lives, Clarke. You are the right thing.” Lexa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with stress.

Clarke though it amazing that she didn’t have a heart attack with all the stress she carried in her gaze alone.

The whole argument… was futility in its finest form.

That sent Clarke’s mind reeling into the depths of her character. Who she’d been raised to be. Her father’s mistakes. Her mother’s inability to accept her father’s flaws and her own. Her life, the “morally grey” existence she’d led, as she often described it.

She remembered her earlier teen years, hell, maybe even her childhood. She’d read books about valiant heroes who risked themselves for the greater good. Who’d found themselves at odd with true evil, and had conquered through hardship and sacrifice, but were often rewarded with the greatest gifts life could offer.

Clarke had learned, later on, that such an existence was a falsehood. Nothing was so clearly defined as “right” or “wrong”. Nothing was polarized so neatly into two separate categories of black and white, and Clarke thought to her studies that she’d enjoyed on the side of schooling and art.

She’d always been an admirer of Nietzsche. At times, when she regretted her choices or actions, she felt the need to recite his quote to herself in a sullen whisper. _“You have your way, I have my way…and as for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.”_

So Clarke told herself that it was acceptable. She was entangled between two lethal crime syndicates, her loyalties sworn to one, her morals to neither. It was enough to drive her crazy at times. Lexa was like an anchor, it seemed. Lexa was Clarke’s motivation to keep going on, as sick as that was. She knew this would end in Lexa’s demise, the downfall of not only her, but everything she had. And yet, Lexa was the only part of the puzzle that truly made any sense.

And now Lexa had been cruel to her. And she felt like a ship at a tempest ridden sea, with no anchor in place.

And it hurt.

So, she did what she did best. What she’d always done in times of great difficulty. Clarke picked up her things, and ran.

* * *

 

Her running had led her straight home. Well, not her home, but Raven’s apartment. She felt ridiculous when she walked up to Raven’s apartment door, still covered in blood and probably smelling like it as well.

Raven didn’t take long to open the chain lock, smirk fading and eyes widening when she saw Clarke. “Holy shit! Octavia, call-”

“It’s not mine!” Clarke clarified instantly. “The blood isn’t mine.”

Raven’s expressions settled into ones of relief. She stepped aside, letting Clarke into her messily quaint little apartment. “Uh…come in. I’ll get you some clean clothes…”

Clarke shook her head. “No, you don’t have to do that. I didn’t mean to just barge in like this, I just….found myself coming here.” She ran a hand through her blonde curls, feeling for the braid in the back. At least that was still intact.

“What’d I miss?” Octavia appeared from the hallway, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when she saw Clarke. “Holy shit Griff!” She made her way towards Clarke, examining her scrupulously. “What the fuck happened?”

Clarke breathed out a sigh. She wasn’t sure coming to Raven’s was a good idea. “I…did my job, for the first time, I guess.”

Raven padded into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge. She handed it to Clarke and motioned towards the barstool by the counter. “Talk it out.”

Clarke thanked her with a nod and sat down, Octavia and Raven surrounding her. “I…we…got a call. And he was shot…”

“Who?” Raven demanded curiosly, sliding into a chair beside Clarke. “Explain, Clarke.”

“Lincoln.” Clarke huffed out.

Raven’s eyes widened and Octavia’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor, which Clarke would’ve noticed, if she wasn’t too busy wallowing in her Lexa-filled sorrows.

“Who shot him?” Octavia demanded, leaping to her feet.

Clarke rose a brow. “You didn’t order this? I heard it was one of us.”

“Like hell I did.” Octavia huffed out, reaching for her cellphone. She began furiously typing away, likely shooting a text to Bellamy.

“So…what? He die or something?” Raven asked unsurely. She seemed to care a hell of a lot less, save for the fact that she missed an opportunity to shoot someone.

“What? No.” Clarke snapped, taking a swig of her beer. “I’m not that shitty of a doctor, you know.”

Raven let out an amused laugh, and Clarke didn’t understand how any of this could be funny.

Lincoln was shot. He could’ve died.

Octavia’s phone began to buzz and she put it on the loud speaker, clearly enraged. Bellamy’s smiling face filled the screen. Raven and Clarke pressed closer into each other to hear the exchange.

“O?” Bellamy’s voice crackled to life on one end. “What is it? I’m swamped with work and-”

“You put a hit on Lincoln?” Octavia snapped, cutting off her brother’s authoritative voice instantly.

“I…what? On who?” Bellamy repeated absently, clearly dumbfounded.

“A Grounder was shot today.” Raven explained, ignoring Octavia’s eyeroll of exasperation. “Clarke says they think it’s us.”

Bellamy’s exclamation was far from remorseful. “Oh, yeah, that. We hit one of Lexa’s fucking bodyguards, and we hit him hard. Bastard’s probably dead.”

“He isn’t!” Octavia nearly roared, and both Raven and Clarke exchanged looks of surprise.

“Jesus, O, you’re gonna burn my speaker shouting like that.” Bellamy reproached her like a child. “What the hell?”

“Since when do you make decisions without me?” Octavia demanded.

“O, there wasn’t a decision to make. Murphy had the shot lined up by the border and I told him to take it. They have orders to shoot on sight, remember?”

Octavia’s eyes lit up. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Octavia Blake. “In broad daylight?” She hissed.

Clarke and Raven couldn’t fathom why she was suddenly so spirited about an issue that had already come to pass. She ran a hand through her straight brunette hair, mostly in an angry fashion.

“Relax, I paid off the local boys a few days ago. It’s all good here, Octavia.” Bellamy retorted, and Clarke knew he was talking about the local police.

Octavia blew out a breath and hung up on him, shaking her head. “Well…how is he?” She questioned after a moment of silence.

Clarke nodded slowly, unsurely. “He’ll be alright. He’s really lucky. A few inches to the left and we could have been talking about a shattered spine. That’s something you can’t come back from.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “So like Murphy to miss the fucking shot.”

Octavia whipped around to Raven. “You wanted him dead?” She seethed. “I thought we were the good guys, Raven.”

Clarke stood up, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable between her two friends.

Raven stood up as well, and Clarke couldn’t help but glance at her leg. “Yeah, we are. Don’t forget about Finn, Octavia. I sure as hell won’t.”

“I’m just going to….show myself out.” Clarke mumbled, realizing that neither girl was taking their gaze off the other. “I’ll be in touch.”

Clarke never received an answer from either girl.

* * *

 

A shower, several articles of clean clothes, and a cup of tea were the combination to healing Clarke’s exhausted soul, at least temporarily. She’d went back to her own apartment, cautiously stepped over all the paintings that were practically in every corner, and busted out something she hadn’t seen in a while.

Her pottery equipment.

She had a tarp to lay out on the living room floor, which she’d cast out her coffee table for. She had a smaller sized wheel she’d gotten from Monty for her birthday a few years back, and some clay she’d kept carefully in storage.

It felt like she was in high school again. From the moment she set her foot to the pedal, Clarke felt her thoughts, worries, and stress melt away, like an old skin, to reveal a much healthier version of herself.

She’d drawn her hair back lazily, and worn a tank top that rode a little too high up her waist, but she couldn’t have cared less.

She was safe, at home, in another world completely.

She watched the almost-setting sun cast a deep, golden orange glow over everything she owned, from her window pane. It lit all of her paintings, furniture, and possessions…she felt as if she were on fire.

And oh, how she wanted to burn. To forget everything. To-

“Clarke?” A low, silky voice shook her. Clarke jumped into the air a few feet, eyes widening as she grabbed the nearest makeshift weapon to face her intruder with. It was a pillow. Which was now covered in clay, thanks to her dirty, occupied hands.

“Shit, Lexa!” Clarke gasped, tossing the pillow back down and clutching her heart.

“You don’t lock your doors.” Lexa scolded, eyeing Clarke with what Clarke would’ve assumed was worry, but that notion was far out the window after their great divide.

“Don’t you knock?” Clarke breathed. She felt Lexa’s eyes roam her somewhat exposed abdomen, and she suddenly blushed. She took in Lexa’s appearance. She was wearing the exact same outfit from earlier. She’d come straight from work. Why?

“I did, but it seems you couldn’t hear me. I was worried, so I…” She motioned to the door. “But I see you’re occupied. I can go, now.”

Clarke shook her head almost immediately. “No! Don’t…uh…don’t mind this. I just…wanted to relax. It’s weird, I know…”

Lexa cut her off. “No, I envy your artistic ability, Clarke. What are you making?”

Clarke smiled shyly, tilting her head. “I actually didn’t know what to make…Any ideas?”

Lexa looked thoughtful, and then offered Clarke a shy smile. It was so strange, and frankly, Clarke had whiplash. “I’m…content to watch.”

Clarke’s cheeks burned as she thought of the innuendo. Her hands were dirty and so was she. “Here.” She motioned to the chair across from her. “Keep my company. I’ll make you something special.”

Lexa drew in a breath and nodded, making her way over to the chair. She sat elegantly, with poise and great care, as her eyes fell to Clarke’s fingers working the clay into a shape. She crossed her legs rigidly, sure that Clarke wouldn’t notice.

When the clay started taking shape, Clarke offered Lexa a smirk. “Any guesses?”

Lexa glanced at her work thoughtfully. “A dagger.” She mirrored Clarke’s smirk.

Clarke’s heart began racing. She liked it. “So you can recognize it? Damn, I must be better with my fingers than I thought.”

Lexa coughed then, and Clarke nearly doubled over when she’d realized what she’d said. How mortifying.

“I’ll probably glaze it and fire it…and throw it away.” Clarke added after a moment, biting her lip. She was oblivious to the fact that Lexa would watch her little mannerisms like that, squirming in the chair and biting her own lip.

“Don’t do that.” Lexa murmured. “Clarke, your art is valuable. I told you, I’d be more than happy to compensate you for it.”

“Oh please…” Clarke rolled her eyes, trying to fight the feeling of overwhelming enthusiasm she felt at Lexa’s praise. “I’m out of practice.”

“No, you-” Lexa’s phone began blaring, and Clarke just knew it was Anya. She was on a roll with that, after all.

Lexa actually murmured, “I’m so sorry, just a moment.” Before taking the call.

And then there were a few hurried lines in trigedasleng. Clarke couldn’t perceive them at all.

“Anya!” Lexa nearly shouted to end her apparent ramblings. “Relax, I’m with Clarke.”

The arguing started up again after that, and Clarke cringed, That was never a good sign.

Lexa hung up, looking mildly uncomfortable, before leaning back into her seat.

Clarke sighed, glancing up into Lexa’s eyes. “Anya still doesn’t like me, huh?”

Lexa replied calmly, as if to reassure Clarke that while she _did_ hate her, it was fine. “Anya is like…my protective, older sister.”

Clarke couldn’t help the question that poured out from behind her lips. “Why?”

Lexa looked off, out Clarke’s window, into the blood orange sky, now alight with streaks of pink. “I saved her, once.”

Clarke’s mouth opened to question it further, but something insider her, her conscience maybe, told her that she’d dug far enough for one day. Especially considering the awkward spat they’d had earlier.

“I came here…to apologize.” Lexa admitted with a sigh, rising from her chair. “I…I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. I’ve dealt with loss before but…I couldn’t lose Lincoln. Not like that. And you…I never meant to say any of  those things, Clarke. I behaved irrationally, and impulsively. Those traits are not becoming of a leader in my position, so…Please forgive me.” Her tone was shaky, nervous for once.

Clarke felt her knees shake. Her heart was hammering inside her chest. Lexa’s eyes found hers and together they created an aquamarine trance.

She stuck out her hand for Clarke to shake.

“No, you wouldn’t want that!” Clarke held up her hands, covered with clay and dust. Lexa put her hand down, almost dejectedly, but that changed as soon as Clarke stepped forward, pulling her into a hug. "About what Nia said...earlier...She had no right. She was wrong, too. You've done amazing work..." Her heart ached for Lexa, in that moment. Nia was ruthless. Lexa was a saint.

"I...thank you, Clarke." Lexa's voice, soft, almost to the point of a whisper, almost wavered. It was brief, but both girls expressed what they couldn’t with words, pouring every fiber of their respective beings into the hug. Before they completely pulled apart, Clarke did something that caused Lexa to break out into an uncontrollable little smile.

She kissed her cheek, softly, briefly, and adoringly.

“You really should get new locks, Dr. Griffin.” Lexa murmured with an amused smile.

Clarke rolled her eyes. And then she saw it. Her window of opportunity. She didn’t know when she’d ever see Lexa this vulnerable.

She needed to strike.

“Lexa.” Clarke breathed, gently calling her attention back.

“Hmm?” Lexa replied, her gaze and attention fully in Clarke’s possession.

“Go out with me.” Clarke more stated than asked, but it came off as sincere and unsure. And it was.

“Huh?” Lexa took a step back, blinking. “I’m sorry, I thought I misheard-”

“Lexa.” Clarke drawled, more steadily this time. “You didn’t mishear anything. I asked you out. On a date. Unless of course…” Clarke felt the threat of her heart getting ready to shatter into millions of miniscule, irreparable fragments. “…You’re not interested?”

Lexa paused for a moment.

Clarke’s heart nearly dropped.

Until she gave Clarke one of her classic, amused smiles. “I have to leave on a business trip for two weeks, tomorrow evening.”

Clarke felt her lips dry. She licked them hesitantly. Was this a rejection?

“Clarke Griffin, upon my return, if you’d still have me….” She began slowly, eyeing Clarke with a knowing glance of amusement. “ _I’d_ be honored to take _you_ out.”  

Clarke grinned, and Lexa matched it.

Two weeks. She could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time (Sunday): ....yikes. That's all I can say.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at Effortlessly-Opulent if you'd like to see story artwork, have specific asks, etc. 
> 
> Otherwise- drop me a comment here and let me know how I did, your thoughts, whatever you like! 
> 
> Thanks Again!  
> P.S. Sunday Mornings will appear to be the main posting time for this story, with *possible* bi-weekly updates on Wednesdays OR Thursdays!


	6. Love is Blindness

Clarke was no stranger to the dull ache that ghosted her body when she found herself counting the hours in the day.

Or, in this particular instance, the days in the week. Two weeks, specifically.

She’d done the math. She had the time to. Anya wasn’t dumping outrageous workloads on her anymore, and thankfully no one else had been shot in the wake of Lexa’s absence. It made for quiet times back at the office.

Time that Clarke wasted counting the seconds until Lexa’s supposed return. She’d actually written it out on the legal pad she’d taken to scribbling it on whenever no one was around and she just needed to capture the essence of Lexa on paper.

Clarke muttered to herself in a faux sing-song whisper. “Twenty-thousand, one hundred-sixty.” Well, that was since the previous evening, since Lexa had departed this morning.

She hadn’t even seen her leave. Her office was vacant before Clarke had arrived. She must not have come in.

Lincoln’s voice shook her as she glanced up, his broad shouldered body suddenly blocking the florescent light from her view.  “That’s how long it’s been since you’ve had a drink? No…a hot date?” Lincoln guessed, leaning against the edge of her desk. “You’re blushing, so it has to be something embarrassing.”

Clarke got out of her seat in a hurried, almost stumbling motion, trying desperately to hide her blushing, rosy cheeks. “Lincoln!” Her voice involuntarily rose a few octaves.

“Dr. Griffin.” Lincoln dipped his head, like Clarke had seen him do to Lexa. “I never formally thanked you.”

“Thanked me?” Clarke echoed unsurely.

Lincoln scoffed. “Well I know you’re a busy lady, but surely saving my life cracked your top five memorable moments of…I don’t know…this week?” He teased gently.

Clarke laughed nervously. “Lincoln, that doesn’t require thanks. I’m just glad you’re alright. And frankly, a little pissed that you’re threatening my handiwork by being up right now!” She added, coming around the desk. She began to lift the hem of his shirt.

“Clarke, buy me dinner first.” Lincoln grinned when Clarke slapped his arm gently, so as to get the message across without hurting him.

She couldn’t help the thrill that spread through her, when she thought of how she and Lexa would be getting dinner. Just….thirteen days. Maybe less. Lexa had never actually specified _when…_ or _where_ , come to think of it. Was she on business? Or… _pleasure?_ Surely she-

“ _Hei, Klark_.” Lincoln’s soft rumble shook her once more. Had she been zoning out again?

“Huh?” Clarke was certainly blushing hard if she hadn’t been before. “Sorry!”

“A _i nou get chon daunde bilaik, ba yu gada foto.” I don’t know who it is, but you’ve got it bad._ Lincoln spoke with an amused tone, back towards Clarke while she examined him.

“No!” Clarke protested, blushing furiously now. “It’s not like that. I’m just…tired.”

“People don’t grin like idiots when they’re tired, Doctor.” Lincoln shrugged doubtfully, his voice full of teasing provocation. “Ba….Nou get yu daun.” _But….Don’t worry._   He added the last part with a wry smile, turning to gaze at her. “Lexa won’t mind you seeing someone as long you keep your relationship out of work affairs. She’s…professional that way.”

Clarke nearly choked on her own spit. He really had no idea, did he?

“Hey, I was thinking…Do you wanna show me a few moves?” Clarke asked after a moment. “You seem like you…know how to handle yourself.” Clarke tried not to eye his back muscles as she pulled his shirt down, confirming that his stitching was intact.

“Clarke, are you hitting on me?” Lincoln smirked.

“Shut up. Never mind.” Clarke threw the nearest available item at him, which was her legal pad. It fell to the floor with a loud clap, and she rushed to pick it up, realizing it would be very awkward to explain that she had quite a few sketches of Lexa in there.

“Wait.” Lincoln chuckled. “You want to fight? What for?”

“Just…Everyone here kind of knows how to. And nobody ever tells me what the hell is going on, or what kind of place I’m working for….” Clarke trailed off, shutting her eyes. “Sorry. I just thought it’d be good to know.”

“Clarke.” Lincoln took her much smaller hands in his own. “These hands save lives, not take them. Why is that such a tragedy to you?”

Clarke sighed, eyeing her hands almost disdainfully. She felt futile in the presence of all these threatening combatants. And of course it didn’t help that she was a goddamn spy, at risk of exposure at any moment. “Lexa…she’s good, I take it?”

Lincoln let out a low whistle. “Our boss? _Ex Lieutenant_ Lexa Woods? Yeah, she can take care of herself.”

Clarke actually choked, then. “L…lieutenant?” She sputtered. “What?”

Lincoln nodded, folding his arms over his chest. “Of course. You think mommy and daddy Woods passed the baton off to her so early for nothing? She was doing well for herself, a little too well, for their tastes. They offered her a position on the board here, and took it.”

Clarke felt numb. How had she not known this? Why hadn’t Bellamy mentioned anything?

“She doesn’t talk about it.” Clarke murmured.

“No, she doesn’t.” Lincoln agreed with a nod. “Not since her parents…passed. She was perfect for the job, though. Groomed to lead, no matter what. She just continued her parents’ legacy.”

“So…was the company…always like _this_?” Clarke asked unsurely, falling back into her chair with a huff.

Lincoln raised a brow quizzically. Then it seemed to dawn on him. Was there always an underground, murderous gang scene involved. “Yeah.” He nodded. “For generations, the Blakes and the Woods have been tearing each other apart. War doesn’t really change, Clarke.”

“She hired you?” Clarke asked after a moment of silence.

Lincoln shook his head. “Her family…her parents…They saved me. I owe everything to them, Clarke. And if that’s protecting Lexa, even though she’s clearly handling things…So be it.”

Clarke’s heart sunk deep into her chest. Lincoln was basically her. All this time she thought she’d been the only one with an obligation like that. How selfish. How narrow-minded.

Lincoln’s eyes snapped to Clarke’s screen, which lit up with a text, chiming into the silence. His eyes fell to the large, white numbers in the top center of the luminescent screen. “Shit! It’s Five already?”

“Uh…yeah.” Clarke replied unsurely. “You have somewhere to be?”

Lincoln nodded, backing out of her office apologetically. “I have to meet someone…”

Clarke was about to ask who, when he added “-For…Uh…an errand. _Leida_!” He called it over his shoulder as he practically fled out the hallway.

“Later.” Clarke grumbled, feeling awful about herself. From G.I Jane to a gangster.

 Lexa must have had one hell of a past.

* * *

 

Lincoln’s sudden disappearance forced Clarke to finish her work, with no other distractions in place. Clarke finished her work, donned her coat, and grabbed her things. She gave Anya a wave, which was barely registered and then reciprocated with a grunt. Clarke tried not to feel insignificant as she made her way into the empty elevator.

It was odd, not having Lexa there. It made Clarke feel empty, vacant, like a child who’d lost her favorite toy or imaginary friend.

But Lexa wasn’t imaginary. Lexa caught her. Lexa kept her going. Lexa’s brunette locks and green, knowing eyes. Her luscious lips and muscled arms.

Lexa was very real. And Clarke wasn’t sure why she felt a strange fluttering whenever she imagined the other girl. Her raspy voice when she was strained or tired, and her stupid smartass know-it-all attitude.

Clarke already missed her. And she thought it strange that she missed someone she was only there to screw over, in the end. Clarke thought about that, a few times an hour, at that point. She would clench and unclench her fists, her thoughts would wonder…

Sometimes she imagined herself burying the ceramic dagger she’d made for Lexa right into Lexa’s back. That was essentially what she was doing, was she not?

The elevator stopped not halfway down, but Clarke was just relieved to have refuge from her thoughts.

Until she saw that it was Nia who stepped on, hair in a tight bun, lips pressed into a grim, firm line.

That was never a good sign.

“Hello, Mrs. Queen.” Clarke commented politely, opting for her last name. That was one oddly fitting last name. Clarke was just realizing why everyone called the “ice queen”.

“That’s _‘miss Queen’_.” Nia snapped, less than kindly.

 _‘Surprise surpris_ e’ Clarke thought to herself. She pitied anyone unlucky enough to have the displeasure of marrying Nia. “My apologies.” She dipped her head politely, knowing that Lexa was far from saving her this time.

“Doctor Griffin.” Nia stiffened and straightened her back as the sliding doors began to shut, the two of them alone and isolated in the metal cage, stories upon stories above the ground.

“Yes?” Clarke felt herself wanting to back up. She held her ground, keeping her chin raised. She needed to show her dominance, like Lexa had.

“What exactly are your intentions with Alexandria?” Nia asked suddenly, clutching her folder to her chest as if it were a shield.

As if Clarke’s words were about to poison her.

“My…what?” Clarke repeated, feeling suddenly nervous. Why was she asking? She didn’t seem like she gave a damn about ‘Alexandria’ or her interests, well-being…any of it.

“Your intentions.” Nia repeated grimly.

“To…work for her?” Clarke tried, tugging her coat tighter to her body suddenly.

“I assume you won’t interfere, then.” Nia spoke proudly, chest out as a villain did right before they would proclaim their evil plans for world annihilation.

Clarke’s world couldn’t handle any more annihilation.

“Interfere?” Clarke repeated, feeling very much like a broken record, incapable of forming any legitimate words. “I don’t understand. What would I interfere with?”

“Lexa’s relations with my child.” Nia snapped, suddenly, as if Clarke wasn’t receiving the memo.

Which she totally wasn’t.

“Roan? Your son?” Clarke sputtered. “They’re an item?”

Nia looked as if she wanted to slap Clarke for even suggesting such an idea. “No, _Doctor._ Surely you know Alexandria is…” She made a face of disgust, and Clarke wanted to deck her, the intolerant bitch. “….My daughter, _Ontari.”_

“Who?” Clarke couldn’t help the reaction before it was too late.

“She is on a business trip with Alexandria now. I’ll expect they’ve arrived in New York right about now.” She glanced at her watch.

Clarke looked unsure. “I’m sorry…I’ve never met her…she must not come here often.”

Nia had to keep herself from rolling her eyes. “She’s a business student. She is the perfect candidate to guide this company back to its former prowess. Lexa has agreed to oversee her training.”

Clarke felt sick. Surely Lexa didn’t want to hand over her parents’ legacy to some….some… _girl_? She felt something claw at her heart and she fought the urge to pry the doors open prematurely and take her chances rather than staying with the so called “ice queen”.

“I trust you will not interfere, should something be…blossoming between them, Doctor Griffin?” Nia demanded, right as the elevator doors were opening. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. What is it that you want from her, hmm? Is it the wealth?”

Clarke scoffed. “I’m a doctor. I can afford to support myself, thank you!”

Nia tilted her head, as if it would help her gauge the credibility of Clarke’s words.

Just then, the doors flew open, and Clarke rediscovered oxygen, and personal space.

Clarke felt trapped. She couldn’t form words. She just shook her head, pushing past Nia as she hurried out the main steps and out of the building that housed her greatest loves and worst nightmares all at once.

* * *

 

Clarke was thinking about texting Lexa. She had her number, but she’d never actually done anything with it before.

But the thought of her, in New York, with O _ntari_ ….whoever that was…it was enough to make her want to break the ice.

But then she realized her mission wasn’t exactly to be Lexa’s overly obsessed stalker. It was to get information regarding gang related activity. For Bellamy. Who was counting on her.

Clarke shoved her phone back into her pants pockets, getting her keys out to unlock her apartment door, which she’d only locked at Lexa’s behest. Which was completely, utterly, ridiculously adorable, by the way. Lexa worried about her safety. She wasn’t sure why, but it made Clarke feel warm inside.

That warmth rapidly dissipated when Clarke realized that her door had been open this entire time, and her lights were on. Her heart leapt out of her chest.

“Lexa?” She called out hesistantly. Lexa was the only person who might have been able to pull that off. It wasn’t because she _wanted_ her intruder to be Lexa, or anything.

“Wrong kingpin, princess.” Bellamy’s voice called from her living room, and Clarke’s heart settled back into a normal rhythm. She’d forgotten that Bellamy was more than capable of opening her locked door.

“Hey, Bell!” Clarke called out without seeing him, settling her jacket on the hook by the door. “Can I get you a beer or something?” Clarke stepped into the room to see her close friend, sprawled out on the couch before her as if he was doing male modeling in his spare time. He’d laid out two cold beer, not from her fridge, she noted- and a bowl of popcorn. His locks bounced a little when he grinned and patted the seat next to him.

“Well this isn’t weird at all.” Clarke murmured to herself mostly, a smile on her lips. “What’s all this?”

“A date.” Bellamy grinned.

“Is that why you’re lying on my couch like a nude male model?” Clarke retorted, plopping down next to him and popping a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

“Should I strip?” Bellamy offered teasingly, leaning up from his seat.

“Pass.” Clarke rolled her eyes, munching on the warm, fluffy treat. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Blake?”

“We always used to have movie nights together.” Bellamy shrugged nonchalantly. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like she wasn’t his pawn in a deadly murder match and they weren’t grown up, jaded, and tired old sods with no imagination or sense of youth.

“That was before…” Clarke shrugged. “Everything.”

“That doesn’t mean things have to change.” Bellamy sat up, putting his arm around Clarke. “What’s the matter, Griff? I can tell when somethings not sitting well with you. Mom’s meatloaf always gave you that funny expression you’re wearing now.”

Clarke let out a small laugh she didn’t know she had in her. Where to begin?

“Bell…” Clarke sighed, setting aside the bowl of popcorn for a moment. “I need to…clear up a few things, before we go any further with this…crazy plan.”

Bellamy nodded, concern clouding his gaze. “What’s wrong? Did she hurt you? Are you alright?”

Clarke shook her head. “No. I’m fine. She’s…great.” Clarke tried to cover up her slip when he tilted his head in curiosity at her word choice. Perhaps ‘great’ was a bit too enthusiastic. “It’s just that…she’s not really letting me into her inner circle. Well, she is…But I think she wants to keep me separate from the illegal stuff. It’s as if she’s trying to protect me, you know?”

Bellamy smirk. “Griffin you dog. She has feelings for you.”

Clarke’s stomach sank. Every fiber of her being willed her to keep quiet about the upcoming date. She did just that.

“I don’t know. Things are complicated.” Clarke leaned back. “She might be seeing someone…Bell, what am I doing? I feel…I don’t know…wrong?”

Bellamy sighed, and Clarke couldn’t handle the disappointment that threatened to show in his expressive gaze. “Griff…. we really need this. We almost lost Dax to them. And our shipments…”

Clarke knew what was coming next.

“They took _Finn_ from us, Clarke. From Raven. From _you_.”

Clarke sighed deeply, blinking back any memories that threatened to surface. “I know.”

“I want Octavia to be safe. I want to be able to protect her. And you. And Raven, Monty, Miller…all our people, Clarke. Because we’re a family. And that’s what we do.”

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, envisioning a scene from nearly a decade ago, maybe more. She tried not to count.

* * *

 

_A vision of fifteen year old Clarke Griffin haunted her mind. Jeans, the band tee. Her cobalt eyes full of life and light. Everything was different._

_“Clarke!” Bellamy, twenty years old and grinning ear to ear, came into her bedroom door. His bedroom door, actually. He’d been sent to a special preparatory boarding school, and his schedule was strict, rigorous, and intensive. His father had been grooming him to take up the mantle ever since he turned thirteen._

_“Bell!” Clarke leapt off her bed, jumping into his arms, just like she’d seen Octavia do countless times. “You’re back!”_

_“For a few days, yeah.” He nodded, setting Clarke down with care. “How’s my favorite girl? Settling in well here?”_

_Clarke looked abashed, her cerulean gaze fell to the floor. Bellamy tilted her chin up, and she realized how different he looked with his hair all cropped. He looked older. More professional. Like a soldier._

_“My mom used to call me every day. But…” She shrugged. “That stopped, since my dad…”_

_Bellamy frowned. “She doesn’t call anymore?”_

_Clarke sighed, leaning back on the bed. “I think she gave up on me. I never answered when she did, and in all her messages, she told me that I was better off here.”_

_“Hey.” Bellamy sat beside her, throwing his comforting arms around her shoulders. “We’ve been close family friends with your parents for as long as I can remember. Your mom knows us. She trusts us. You can stay here as long as you like, you know that?”_

_Clarke smiled. “Thanks Bellamy.”_

_“Octavia treating you okay?” He asked gently._

_“She’s practically my sister.” Clarke grinned. “So, yeah, she is.”_

_“Good.” Bellamy smiled, rising and dusting his pants off. “I should go wash up. Dinner’s gonna be ready soon, and I just know Octavia will have some wild shit to fill me in on.”_

_Clarke smiled and nodded, watching as he left. “Wait!” She called suddenly, rising from her seated position, anxiously clasping her hands together._

_“Yeah?” Bellamy turned mid stride. He was always ready to drop everything and hear Clarke. She envied Octavia for having such an amazing older brother._

_“Thank you, for making my case to your parents, Bellamy.” Clarke breathed, enveloping him into a tight hug. “I think you’re what convinced them to let me stay.”_

_“Sure thing, princess.” Bellamy smirked, chuckling when she tightened her grip around him._

_“Get a room.” Octavia grumbled as she passed the open door on the way downstairs. They knew she didn't mean it.  Bellamy and Clarke laughed synchronously then as they followed suit._

* * *

 

“Can I ask you something, Bell?” Clarke asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped them since.

“Name it.” Bellamy replied, leaning back to face her.

“How much do you know about Lexa’s background?” Clarke murmured. She felt odd, asking. As if she were doing something wrong. She needed to hear it from Lexa, not Bellamy.

Bellamy sighed. “Looks like your digging finally yielded some results, huh?”

Clarke nodded slowly. “There’s…so much I don’t know. That I thought I knew. She’s….an enigma, Bellamy. I think I have her figured out, and then, the next minute, she’s someone else entirely. She’s open at times…but then….she’s just ruthless. I don’t know what to believe.”

Bellamy looked thoughtful. “Who we are, and who we need to be to survive are two very different things, Clarke.” He murmured after a moment of heavy consideration.

Clarke was taken aback. That actually made sense. So, then, who was Lexa? Which one was the real her? Clarke felt like she already knew. But she wanted to confirm it. To hear her croon words into her ear, to feel her skin against her own, to trace words coming from her soft, delicate lips.

“We were friends, at one point.” Bellamy admitted.

“You…what?” Clarke nearly fell off the couch.

“High school. We both went to the same preparatory school before she shipped off and I went into business.” He shrugged. “We were rivals, but it was friendlier then. Our parents never knew, luckily. Otherwise I might not be sitting here today.”

“No fucking way.” Clarke sat up unsurely. “What was she like?”

“Rich. Silent. Really fucking good at chess.” Bellamy informed her, taking a sip of beer. “A total mystery. Oh, and beyond hot, obviously. But she only had eyes for one girl.”

Clarke looked genuinely shocked, as if someone had slapped her. Lexa had been so close, all her life, and she’d never known.

What if their hands brushed when they both reached for something at the store? What if Lexa came into the market Clarke worked summer shifts at and bought something at Clarke’s register? She felt it to be bittersweet. All the moments they could’ve shared. Moments of purity, of innocence. Moments unsullied by the endless waves of struggle and strife they faced daily, now.

“Who was the-” Clarke’s burning question was cut off, mid statement, by Bellamy’s phone.

Clarke resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Was this a trend or something? Kingpins and their damn popularity when it came to phone calls was unbelievable.

Bellamy frowned, reaching into his back pocket to produce his cellphone. Octavia’s laughing face filled the screen and Clarke couldn’t help but reflexively smile when she saw it.

Warmth filled her, when she thought of the Blake siblings. Her home. Her family. Her responsibility.

“Hey, O.” Bellamy answered after a few rings. “You coming or what?”

Clarke listened intently, but heard nothing on the receiving end. Bellamy listened, said goodbye, and hung up, expressionless.

Clarke piped up. “Is she coming? With Raven?”

Bellamy shook his head, and Clarke pouted. “Nope. She just told me- ‘ _Running late, out ‘running errands’. Catch up with you later_ ’”.

Clarke thought that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint when or where she’d heard that. Maybe it was just a case of deja-vu.

Bellamy pressed play on the remote he’d been harboring, and Clarke knew she had to shut up about Lexa, or he’d be onto her not-so-subtle crush.

Clarke leaned back to watch the movie, head against Bellamy’s shoulder, but all she could think about were those piercing, emerald eyes, calling to her.

She fell asleep thinking of Lexa, dreamed of Lexa, and awoke alone the next morning, wishing, aching, wanting for Lexa.

This became routine for Clarke Griffin in Lexa’s absence.

* * *

 

Two weeks of agony had finally come to pass, and Clarke Griffin felt anxious, more than she had when she assisted in her first surgery. More than she had in a long, long time.

Tomorrow. Lexa Woods was coming home, and she’d see Clarke tomorrow. They’d go out.

Clarke was utterly ashamed of how much she felt like a giddy schoolgirl.

So, she devoted her energy into doing something somewhat positive. She’d went home to retrieve the ceramic dagger she’d crafted for Lexa. She’d glazed it and fired it, but, most importantly: She’d inscribed “Commander Lexa” on the ‘blade’ edge. It was a labor of love. Or a labor of lies, as Bellamy would have her describe it.

Clarke had taken the time and effort to retrieve it and wrap it, which she left on Lexa’s desk at approximately seven in the evening, after work, and long after everyone had retired for the evening. After all, Lexa wasn’t there, and early nights were a luxury.

Clarke found the quiet halls and elevators a little unnerving as the thunderstorm rolled it way through the city outside, and lightning occasionally illuminated her walkway from the windows. Still, the rolling thunder and pouring rain didn’t keep her from delivering her gift, so that it’d be there when Lexa arrived, first thing in the morning.

Clarke attempted to assure herself that it was just for the cover. Lexa needed to believe that she really cared. That was it.

Making her way out the front door, Clarke hardly saw the dark, coat clad figure, toting an umbrella, that was directly in her path. The two collided, and the umbrella was swept away by the wind, leaving both of them utterly exposed to the pouring rain.

Clarke slipped backwards, and this time her fellow companion did as well, but before she could fall completely, they caught each other’s arms almost instinctively, pulling each other upright.

Clarke looked at the now rapidly soaking figure before her. Makeup faded, but present. Brunette locks with picturesque water droplets hanging off the tips. Full lips pulled into a smile.

Lexa Woods was home.

“Clarke? Are you-!” Lexa never finished her statement. Instead she was yanked into a tight embrace by Clarke, who’d been possessed by a demon of affection, it seemed.

“You’re back!” Clarke grinned, taking a step back. She blinked a few times, and Lexa admired the way the water droplets clung to her eyelashes like diamond drops of dew on the morning leaves.

“I am.” Lexa didn’t mind how soaked she was. She was still burning from Clarke’s sudden burst of affection. “You’re here so late.” She commented unsurely.

Clarke’s cheeks turned crimson. “I uh…forgot something, in my office.” _That wasn’t suspicious._ “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be showing Ontari around?” Clarke couldn’t help the edge that seeped into her voice.

“Ontari?” Lexa raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “How did you….Nia.” Her lips were pursed into a thin, grim line.

Clarke looked abashed for a moment. She didn’t have to go around saying that. That was so…petty. “She kind of…scared me.” Clarke admitted.

Lexa’s verdant gaze clouded with anger. Her muscles tensed under her coat. It was a marvel. “Did she touch you?”

“What?” Clarke looked surprised. Nia was capable of arousing fear in Clarke, but never fear of physical offense.

“Did she hurt you, Clarke? Threaten you? In _my_ building? ” Lexa’s jaw set. “I swear, I’ll have her-”

“Lexa!” Clarke interrupted her swell of anger. She put a gentle hand on Lexa’s cheek, and immediately felt the burn. She wasn’t sure if it was her skin, or Lexa’s, but it was oh so warm, and soft. “I’m fine.” She spoke over the pouring of the rain, forgetting entirely about the awning behind them, just a mere two or three feet away. “She didn’t do anything, and I’m fine.”

Lexa gave her a faint smile against her palm, and Clarke withdrew it slowly. Lexa looked as though she missed the contact as much as Clarke did.

“I was just coming in to go over a few files.” Lexa spoke in a husky, low voice. “But I have a better idea.”

Clarke felt her knees buckle. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to take you out. Tonight. I’ll give you an hour to go get ready…” Lexa murmured, an amused smirk threatening to spill over her features. “And then, you’re mine, for the evening.”

“I…uh…” Clarke stuttered. “Yeah.” She blinked, raindrops spilling onto her cheeks. “Yeah. Okay.”

“And Clarke.” Lexa pulled her right up against her chest, and the turned. She stepped inside the building, reaching around the door for something, and then stepped out once more. Clarke was so busy trying to remember how to breathe that she didn’t notice what was in Lexa’s hand.

“Hmm?” was all Clarke could manage, inches away from her lips. Those lips. She eyed them, licking her own, when she felt something long pressed into her hand.

“Try not to get wet.” Lexa’s voice was barely above a whisper as she handed Clarke a new umbrella, turning without another word, and shutting the heavy door behind her.

Clarke was stunned.

* * *

 

Clarke had been through about three-thousand new outfits in the tiny timeslot Lexa had given her to get ready. It was so strange. Their date was supposed to be the following evening. Yet, she’d brought up her visit to the office, and that Ontari girl…and Lexa had become spontaneous. Possessive, even.

Clarke had to admit. It was wildly attractive. Her heart was hammering. She knew Lexa was going to take her somewhere nice, that was just her style. At first, she wondered how Lexa could have gotten a reservation on such short noticed, but then Clarke remembered that Lexa Woods owned half the fucking city, and surely had blood debts owed to her.

A reservation was probably not an issue, in this case.

Clarke had settled on a dress she’d probably stolen from Octavia’s closet, at one point or another. She donned the dress with impatience, admiring the way it accentuated her curves and her exposed neck. She wanted to look appealing, but reserved in some way. She tied her hair in an elegant bun, strands of her blonde locks coming loose to complete her look.

She could barely focus when she applied her makeup, and she hoped it wasn’t evident in the results. Not that she could tell, based on Lexa’s reactions. Lexa always looked at her, and told her, to be fair, that she looked like a fallen angel.

Which was funny, because that’s how she felt about Lexa. Who was certainly far more angelic, graceful, just beautiful than Clarke. In her opinion, of course.

There was a knock at the door. Clarke nearly jumped off her seat, glancing at her cell phone, which had sat prone on her desk. She shook her head. No more interruptions. Not tonight. Lexa deserved her undivided attention.

And she wanted Lexa’s.

She hoped that Anya, Lincoln, Gustus, and hell, even Ontari, wouldn’t interrupt their evening with a poorly timed call.

Clarke made her way to the door, half expecting Lincoln to be standing behind, waiting to chauffeur her to a secret rendezvous location. Then she remembered that Lexa wasn’t James Bond, she was a gangster. Even though she never acted like it, which Clarke might have secretly loved.

“Clarke…” Lexa began, pushing the door open halfway. “How many times have I told you about these lo….” Lexa trailed off. Her breath visibly hitched when she saw Clarke, and it gave the both of them chills.

Clarke did nearly the same when Lexa came in, wearing a dark dress with a slit in the leg area. Those legs. Clarke didn’t know if she was jealous, outrageously attracted, or both. Lexa’s soft hair was down around her shoulder, the way Clarke loved it.

“Locks.” Lexa finished after what seemed like hours of the two devouring each other with their eyes. “Clarke…” She trailed off.

“You look incredible.” Clarke breathed at the same time.

The two both blushed at once, averting their gazes to anywhere but the eyes of the companion.

“You look breathtaking as well, Clarke.” Lexa let a smile slip out. “I’ve made reservations for _La Montagne_ , if that’s alright with you…” she murmured, eyes falling to Clarke’s neck before finding their way to her eyes again. Her French was exquisite, from what Clark could glean from those two words.

She imagined Lexa whispering in her ear, in French. She crossed her legs awkwardly for a moment.

And the she realized what Lexa actually said.

“The mountain?” That woke Clarke from her dreamy state. “ _The_ mountain? How the hell did you manage to do that? I mean, I get that it’s you we’re talking about here, but still!”

Lexa sported an amused smile. “What do you mean ‘ _I get that it’s you?_ ’ What’s so special about me, Clarke?” She spoke Clarke’s name lazily, slowly, challenging her with the provocation of her words alone. 

“Everything, Lexa.” Clarke admitted in a sigh, and Lexa’s playful demeanor was gone, replaced with a look of mild shock, surprise, and appreciation.

Lexa didn’t know what to do. Or how to respond. Suddenly, she looked very guilty. “Clarke. I…I…” She trailed off, for once, at loss for words, like Clarke often found herself around Lexa.

“Hey…” Clarke felt the need to save her. “Shall we?” She took Lexa’s hand in her own, and didn’t look back. It just felt right.

Everything with Lexa felt _right._

Too bad it was all so terribly, terribly wrong.

* * *

 

 _La Montagne_ had lived up to its colossal reputation. It sat high above D.C., almost as if it were up in the clouds. It was the extension of one of D.C’s premiere five star hotels, and as such, was the acropolis of politicians and celebrities alike. It was named after it’s great height and prowess over the city, with views of the skyline like no other. The city, bustling with life so far below, became irrelevant to the gods and goddesses of their own private Olympus they’d formed.

Bellamy brought a date here, once. She wanted to marry him, after that.

Clarke had once worked for a surgeon who put his name on a waiting list to eat at La Montagne. She worked for him for two years, and in those years, his name was never called forth.

Lexa Woods, then, must’ve been very, very influential.

Clarke didn’t need _La Montagne_ to tell her that.

But the private seat in the back, towards a massive glass window pane, overlooking all of the city’s incandescent bright lights certainly helped.

“Clarke…” Lexa’s low voice woke her from her glossy eyed view and thoughts snapped back into her head. Lexa’s hand was over hers, outstretched over the table, and she was gently brushing her thumb over Clarke’s.

Clarke must have died somewhere in that inferno of a city below, died, and made it to heaven. Because this was it. Lexa Woods was heaven.

“Hmm?” Clarke leaned forward a bit. “Sorry.”

“I said, ‘How’s the wine?” Lexa repeated once more, eyeing Clarke with something Clarke couldn’t describe.

Clarke glanced deep into her vibrant, expressive eyes. “Beautiful…” She murmured, and Lexa began to blush when she realized what she’d said.

“Talk to me Clarke.” Lexa leaned her head on a propped elbow, and she made breaking all the rules of formal dining so damn irresistible. “I’d say a ‘penny for your thoughts’ but I’ve found that they tend to be worth so much more.”

Clarke almost died. Since when did Lexa become such a player? And yet, Clarke didn’t feel as if she’d been played. She felt romanced.

God, this was heaven, wasn’t it? Clarke had never felt so entirely intoxicated, immersed. Lexa was dangerous and appealing, so much so that Clarke couldn’t tear her eyes away. Not even with the glittering city below them, the likely celebrity filled restaurant, the hanging gilded chandliers and the exotic dishes they illuminated.

Lexa,  Lexa, _Lexa_.

Everything was Lexa: her virid gaze that sparkled whenever she spoke.

Lexa was rapidly becoming the air Clarke breathed, which proved to be quite thin, as she always felt the pang of breathlessness within herself.

Lexa was the glazed over, warm feeling she felt inside whenever she took a sip of wine.

Lexa was the sparkling of the stars making an appearance for the first time that evening, from their hiding place behind the now passing, wispy stratocumulus clouds.

“I was just thinking of you.” Clarke admitted shyly.

Lexa looked flattered then, as she bashfully offered Clarke a small smile. “Anything I could contribute to clear that up?”

“I guess…” Clarke shrugged, mirroring her smile. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What is this, an interview?” Lexa teased. She was so different than the commander, the girl Clarke had come to know, and even fear. It was the oddest change of heart Clarke had ever witnessed.

“It’s only fair that I interview you.” Clarke took a sip of her wine. “After all, what did you ask me on my first day? If I was… _subservient_?” Clarke’s tone dropped then, to a husky low that matched Lexa’s gaze, clouded with desire.

“Are you?” Lexa murmured.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” Clarke teased, and Lexa bit her lip. Chills ran down her spine.

“So, answer the question. Who are you, Alexandria Woods?” Clarke pressed on.

“I grew up here, in D.C., for the most part.” Lexa sighed, airing her wine with an elegant flick of her wrist. “Academy till I was 18. Marine Corps. The Woods family tradition demands that much. Regality, formality, and discipline.”

Clarke couldn’t imagine Lexa any other way. She was stoic, graceful, very smart, and oh so disciplined. Clarke had never met anyone quite like her.

Clarke nodded. “That’s so impressive…. Did you not like it? Is that why you left?”

Lexa’s eyes carried grief. “It was hard, but that wasn’t it entirely. My parents had a fatal incident. A car accident. I was listed in their will. Inheritance did its job, and here I am, not too long after.”

Clarke wanted to take Lexa’s hand, to kiss away her pain, but she refrained. She nodded slowly. “My parental story isn’t the best one either.” She admitted slowly. “My father…” she trailed off.

Lexa frowned, brushing her thumb over Clarke’s hand. “We shouldn’t speak of such things tonight, Clarke. Tonight is about you.”

“Me?” Clarke scoffed. “Please, I’m the opposite of you. In fact, if you knew my story, you probably wouldn’t be here right now.” She didn’t want to bring the Blakes into the conversation for very obvious reasons. She didn’t want to lie about them either.

She just wanted to wish it all away.

“I seriously doubt that, Clarke.” Lexa brushed her hair over her shoulder, and Clarke got a whiff of her vanilla scented product. She wanted to be so much closer, in that moment.

“My mother is a surgeon, my father a…politician.” Clarke spoke gently.

“A politician?” Lexa repeated curiously. “Here?”

“Yes.” Clarke answered somewhat bitterly. “That’s how I ended up here.”

Lexa seemed to understand that Clarke didn’t want to discuss her parents any further. “Well, I’m certainly glad fate has pulled us together, Clarke.” She spoke with a gentle, vulnerable smile, and Clarke’s heart began to ache.

“Me too, Lexa.” Clarke shifted her gaze to a young couple towards the back of the room. They looked so open, so relaxed. She longed to be like that. To have that. “So…” She began with a teasing tone. “Do I have to worry about this Ontari?”

Lexa cocked her head sideways, and Clarke’s heart did its little flip. Her favorite attribute of Lexa’s was her curious head tilt, like a puppy. Clarke would kill for that. “I don’t know Clarke.” Her voice was singsong yet raspy, all at once. “Do you? Is she here now?”

“No…” Clarke shrugged with a smile. “But you could be fickle, for all I know. Maybe you’ll get tired of me.”

“Never.” Lexa responded with certainty, gaze following Clarke’s lips. “How about you, Doctor Griffin? Anyone I should be watching for?”

“Not anymore.” Clarke admitted. “That ended after Finn, I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty.”

“You certainly could’ve fooled me, Clarke. What was he like?”

“Finn was….a good guy.” Clarke sighed. “Troubled, but…good. He…he wasn’t okay, in the end.” She felt her hands threatening to tremble. Finn’s  could-be murdered might have been sitting across from her.

And Clarke wanted nothing more than to have her, and be hers, unlike anything she’d ever experienced with Finn.

It was unsettling to say the least.

“He eventually snapped under the pressures of…life.” Clarke half lied. “And he got…into an accident.” _Your people killed him._ _Put him down like a damn dog._

Her emotions were stirring in her, so much so that she was surprised when Lexa nodded.

“I am no stranger to having loved and lost, Clarke.” Lexa spoke slowly, deliberately putting emphasis on Clarke’s name. “It’s so easy to stop feeling, isn’t it? That’s what happened to me. The world shut down, I became a ruthless pragmatist…” She shook her head.

“That’s no way to live.” Clarke murmured, the words feeling familiar.

“I think…” Lexa smiled, gaze falling to their entwined hands. “I agree.”

* * *

 

Clarke barely remembered what she ate for dinner. She only remembered Lexa’s gaze, her warm touch, their knees brushing against each other beneath the table.

It was, by all means, a heavenly evening.

And then, right before they left, Lexa summoned a waiter to bring her a glass of fine moscato, which she told Clarke would keep her warm long after they stepped out into the cold D.C. air.

She was right. It warmed Clarke immediately, the thick, sweet nectar staying on her tongue longue after.

She imagined kissing Lexa Woods would be something like that.

And then, when they stood, no one brought a check. As Clarke noted, a chef came out to shake Lexa’s hand before leaving, and Clarke was too numb to be surprised.

Lexa Woods was full of surprises.

Clarke had forgotten her coat at the house, and Lexa took hers off, going so far as to personally drape it over Clarke’s shoulders, her fingers ghosting the skin of Clarke’s neck. The burn was sweet like the wine.

And then she was guiding Clarke down to the entry level floor, where she no doubt had a car waiting by then. Clarke couldn’t think straight. She was overcome by an emotion for Lexa, so strong, that she couldn’t rationalize anything anymore.

Her morals, her plans, her obligations…everything fluttered away in a haze of madness caused by drunken love. All for Lexa.

When the sharp, brisk D.C. night air hit Clarke, it wasn’t nearly as shocking as she expected it to be. Maybe because she was so busy focusing on Lexa’s hand, which had settled on her lower back, as they walked towards the black SUV parked on the side street.

Clarke blinked for a moment, lids heavy. Was the car they’d arrived in…different? She shook it off, feeling pleasantly numb as they made their way to the car. Lexa came around the passenger side, and Clarke had to marvel at her manners and attention to romantic detail.

Except she couldn’t. Clarke couldn’t say anything. She moved to open her mouth, to speak, but couldn’t find the energy. She would’ve panicked, had she the ability. She struggled to even cry out.

“Shh…” Lexa murmured, as Clarke fell limp against her strong arms. “I know…Don’t struggle. It’s painless.” she whispered, eyes searching Clarke’s.

Clarke’s mind faintly recalled memories of college. The big Rohypnol talk. It had never happened to her she just assumed she was never going to be _that_ girl. She realized now that victims were never a single type.

She was a victim.

Poison. Lexa fucking Woods had poisoned Clarke. She was a goddamned doctor and she missed this.

“ _Feisbona_?” Lincoln’s voice sounded off from the driver’s seat. Clarke’s eyes were barely open. She could hear worry lacing his tone. What the hell was feisbona?

“Not Wolfsbane. Rohypnol.” Lexa shook her head. “I need her alive.”

Lincoln’s affirmative rang in Clarke’s ear. “You wanna send a message to Bellamy?” he practically spat.

Lexa steadied Clarke, her eyes slowly shutting, as if they were swelling. Her limbs were lead, unable to bear even their own weight.

“No.” Lexa’s voice rang with authority, with intent.

Clarke feared for her life. She’d forgotten who Lexa was. What she was. A cold blooded, heartless, soulless killer.

Clarke felt her hands being bound behind her. Tightly. She wish she could’ve felt her heart racing.

“She’s mine, now.” Lexa’s low, cutting voice filled Clarke’s blurring, closing vision.

 The last thing she saw were Lexa’s once sweet, vibrant emerald eyes staring back at her.

They weren’t so sweet anymore.

“Love isn’t just _weakness,_ Clarke." Lexa's voice put her to a sudden, sweet coma, from which she'd likely never want to wake. "Love is _blindness._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well, now the true story can begin. Yikes. I promise everything will be addressed. Backstories: Linctavia, Raven, Lexa, and my personal favorite homewrecker Ontari. Should be painfully fun. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please feel free to drop me a comment, and I'll be sure to answer. (Comments are what make writing these long chapters worthwhile!) If you hate me for this, same thing! ;) Also-share the story so you can help me spread the word & share your agony with others!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at Effortlessly-Opulent (For story artwork, asks, etc.)


	7. Wanheda

Clarke woke up feeling as if an anvil had been dropped on her head. Her limbs felt heavy, sluggish, and somewhat cramped- as if she’d just gotten off a fifteen hour flight. Her thoughts came slowly back to her pounding, pulsing head. With them, they brought a strong, fresh sense of fear. Clarke’s heart began to race.

She took in her surroundings.

The lights were off, though they hung on the low ceiling above her. She was on the floor, against a wall, it seemed. She was in a small room, with an unfinished, hard cement floor. The walls were barren, concrete looking. It smelled vaguely like mold.

No plants. No furniture. Just a heavy, thick metal door with an unlit exit sign overhead.

Her hands were bound.

Her legs were now bound as well, zip tie forgone for thick, choking rope.

Clarke realized that she was gagged. She bit down on the cloth that was seemingly stuffed into her mouth, wrapped around her in the tightest fashion.

Her memories were hazy, upon initially waking. But now? Now, they were back.

Where the fuck was she? She felt her insides churn with hate.

Lexa. Lexa fucking Woods.

Lexa Woods was going to kill Clarke Griffin in this dank, poorly lit basement. She was going to murder her and have Lincoln, or Gustus…hell, maybe even Anya throw her body into the Potomac fucking river.

Clarke tried to scream, then. She willed for someone, anyone to hear her. She felt her dry throat cry out in protest simultaneously, and she realized it was a moot point.

Her screams never filled the air. They never left the confines of the thick cloth forced into her mouth.

She was going die.  

She closed her eyes, shutting them hard. She envisioned Bellamy and Octavia busting through the metal door, using the GPS on her phone to locate her.

Raven would come in and shoot the shit out of anyone who dared lay a hand on Clarke.

Murphy would have blood for their audacity.

Octavia would gush over Clarke, telling her to be strong. That she’d be okay.

Bellamy wouldn’t let any harm come to Clarke. _His favorite girl._

Clarke felt tears begin to slide down her cheeks.

She’d left her phone at home. To spend quality time with Lexa.

How stupid was she? Did she think, for a moment, that someone like Lexa Woods would ever go for someone like her? Clarke Griffin the doctor. Lexa Woods the millionaire mob boss. What the _hell_ was she thinking? That she was in _love_? That her allegiances meant nothing in the face of a little attraction?

She’d fucked everything up. And now, she was going to pay with her life.

Clarke cried harder. She began to rock back and forth ever so gently, realizing she was still in her dress, her makeup probably running in thick black lines down her tear stained cheeks.

At least no one had touched her, so far.

And then the door opened. Right in the middle of Clarke’s choked sobs. The lights flew on, one by one, row by row. Shadows filled the room.

It was Gustus, first. He threw the heavy door open like it was made of plastic, and Clarke swore he could’ve at least dented it if he were angry enough.

Then it was Anya, looking triumphant as ever, as if she’d been waiting for Clarke to fail this entire time.

It was right then and there that Clarke had realized that she _had_ been. They were both in Lexa’s inner circle. She must’ve told them. Since the very beginning, the unbridled hostility….they all knew.

They played Clarke like a god damn child, and she’d willingly done their bidding.

She’d healed one of their own. And now they were going to destroy her.

She couldn’t let them. She felt resolve boil in the pit of her stomach. She even tried to rise to her feet. She found herself about halfway up, before she keeled over, heading straight for the concrete-like floor with no way of breaking her fall.

Clarke thought she might have just done Lexa’s work for her and killed herself.

Gustus and Anya made no movements to help her. Anya sneered and Gustus remained stoic as ever.

And then, inches above the hard, cold, unforgiving floor from which she’d risen, Clarke was saved.

Again.

Her heart racing uncontrollably, she willed her blue gaze up, her heart sinking at what she found.

Lexa had caught her again.

God, she looked beautiful. She was wearing black, tight pants and her business jacket, her hair loosely trailing just behind her shoulder. Her verdant eyes held an emotion Clarke couldn’t describe.

Clarke began to shake, the tears flowing freely once more.

She felt like a helpless, pathetic, blubbering child.

Lexa bit her lip, almost anxiously, for a split second, before steadying Clarke and turning sharply on her heel. She almost sounded remorseful, her gaze tracing the stains of Clarke’s tears on her cheeks. She moved her thumb centimeters away from Clarke’s cheek, as if to brush away her tears and fears, but then suddenly retracted it, like she’d been violently shocked.  “Hold her.” Her demand was icy, sharp, and any anxiousness was gone. It was as if she were relieved that Clarke was okay.

Clarke would’ve actually believed that, had she not been tied up, drugged, and kidnapped.

Clarke felt a new hand wrap around her arms. Steadying her.

Anya was behind her, as if to keep her from suddenly lashing out at Lexa. Clarke felt the strong pull of her toned, muscular arms. Clarke knew she had to be more than a measly secretary, or director of operations, or whatever the hell Nia had said. She truly was Lexa’s second in command.

Lincoln grabbed her other arm, as if she were a prisoner being escorted to death row.

Oh, wait. She was, wasn’t she?

Clarke tried to wheel around to look him in the eyes. To challenge him. To argue that she’d saved his life, and maybe he should return the favor.

She uttered out a cry, but once again, it was muffled.

“Take that out.” Lexa demanded, and Lincoln hesitated, as if Clarke was a feral beast who might bite him at first contact.

Lexa stiffened, taking a few steps forward, gently removing the cloth that had wadded up in her mouth. “I’m sorry, Clarke.” Her voice was low.

Clarke did the unthinkable, then. She took a sharp breath, and spat right onto Lexa’s face. She missed, badly, but she didn’t miss the apparent hurt that flashed across Lexa’s features.

“Insolent little shit!” Anya kicked, hard, at the back of Clarke’s knees, and her stomach went down on Anya’s poised fist. She went down hard after that, rolling on the floor in pain. Clarke coughed at the sudden exposure to new air, her lungs heaving all the complaints she couldn’t form verbally. She wheezed and writhed, and felt the most pathetic she ever had in her life.

Lexa’s eyes glistened with something for a split second before her cold façade was firmly intact.

Lincoln bent to pick Clarke up, his gaze apologetic. Clarke flinched at his touch, remembering the events of the night prior like they had just happened.  

Clarke realized she didn’t even know what time it was. She could’ve been locked up for days, like an animal. Did they feed her? She was vaguely hungry, but she figured that the adrenaline and fear she felt were more pressing matters.

“ _Em pleni_ , Anya!” Lexa’s command rang out, and Gustus stiffened from his position by the door, as if he were ready to kill on Lexa’s command.

Clarke knew he was.

“Leave us!” Lexa commanded, flicking her wrist into the air.

Anya’s outcry was loud, dressed in disbelief. “ _Heda, beja, put emo natrona daun fou bilaik_ -” _Heda, please, execute the traitor before-_

“Anya. _Nou mou_.” Lexa’s tone was decisive. At once, Lincoln ushered Anya out of the room. Gustus looked at Lexa questioningly. She nodded only once, and he shut the heavy door on his way out.

They were alone.

They were alone, and Clarke was scared for her god damned life.

“Get it over with.” Clarke was on her knees now. She exposed her soft, pained neck to Lexa, who stood a few feet away, shoulders pressed back regally.

“Clarke…” Lexa began, but Clarke didn’t give her the time of day.

“Just kill me!” Clarke’s outcry shook them both. The tears were gone, and pain seared Lexa’s gaze through Clarke’s cerulean eyes. “Just slit my fucking throat and let’s get this over with.”

“CLARKE!” Lexa snapped. She sounded genuinely angry that Clarke would even suggest something like that.

As if she were bothered by the prospect of any harm coming to Clarke.

“I’m not here to kill you.” Lexa spoke in a low, even voice, her sudden outburst well under control.

Clarke tilted her head, eyeing Lexa with pure fear. Lexa almost flinched when she saw Clarke’s expression. “You’re not?” Clarke repeated in a harsh whisper.

“No.” Lexa’s tone was harsh, her lips pressed into a firm frown. “Not here. Not now.” She added.

“Where….where are we?” Clarke mumbled, feeling her insides collapse upon her. Death was the safe route. She couldn’t endanger her family if she were dead.

“The office. We’re in the basement.” Lexa answered, kneeling to assist Clarke, who wobbly stood up.

_The basement? Probably where Lexa took all her victims._

“Why didn’t you just kill me, _commander_?” Clarke’s voice was venomous. She was frightened.

Lexa took a step back, her eyes suddenly hard with anger. “Would you like that, _Doctor?_ That way you could stop burdening yourself by being here, with me.” She snapped.

That obviously stung the pair.

Clarke’s eyes lit up, and the point of no return was long passed. Passion was buried beneath rage. A tempest of truth to decimate a once blissful connection. An earthquake to level a once bustling, thriving metropolis of understanding and reciprocation.

“Me?” Clarke scoffed. “You’re the one who recruited me! You’ve been lying since the beginning! You knew who I was before I ever stepped into that stupid fucking legal office, right?” Clarke spat. “Anya knew all about Bellamy and his people. You saw the opportunity, and you took it.”

Lexa nodded grimly. “That’s right, Clarke. And you helped us. Which is why you aren’t dead, despite your…traitorous ways. I did this with my head, and not my heart. I took advantage.”

Clarke thought that last line odd, but said nothing. Instead, she fired back. “And me? All those forward little advances? Was that you trying to…” She glanced down, the next few words disgusting her. “ ‘take advantage’? Was that you getting whatever the fuck you want, because you’re the _commander_?”

Lexa stepped forward now, inches away from Clarke’s face. “I wasn’t the only one playing that game, Clarke.” She growled, her eyes falling down to Clarke’s lips for a moment. “You were the one who asked me out. You were the one trying to take advantage.”

Clarke’s eyes steeled and her soul followed suit. She noticed that Lexa still had her knife, the switchblade she carried, strapped to her waist. She snatched it from Lexa’s waist, the movement pressing them against each other.

Lexa’s eyes widened as her hands wrapped around Clarke’s.

“Do it, _Heda_.” Clarke hissed. “You know you want to.” She turned the blade, both their hands wrapped around it, towards her own stomach. She drove Lexa’s hand forward, going so far as to pierce the dress, a small amount of blood clouding the fabric.

Lexa’s eyes widened and her muscled arms won over, yanking the knife back. “Clarke, stop it!” She hissed, snatching the knife back to its small, mostly hidden holster. “What are you doing?” She snapped, hand moving against Clarke’s abdomen, pressing the small wound with such obvious worry, which Clarke was oblivious to in her rage.

“I’m trying to die.” Clarke announced, huffing out. “I would rather die than tell you anything, so just do it, Lexa.” Clarke’s voice was low.

“I could have killed you.” Lexa growled. “I could have…just….” She clenched her blood stained fist, stepping back. “But I didn’t.”

“So you could use me for information against the Blakes?” Clarke fired, clenching her teeth in anger. “You really think that lowly of me? That I’d turn my back on my people because you spared me?”

With a sudden motion, Lexa whipped out Clarke’s phone from her back pocket, holding it firmly in her closed fist.

“My phone!” Clarke snapped to attention, her voice sounding suddenly desperate. “But…but I left that at home! How…. Oh my god. You had Lincoln break into my house to steal it?” She groaned, feeling her world crumble around her. “I can't believe I trusted you.”

“I warned you to fix your locks.” Lexa spoke dryly, with a hint of apology lost in her tone.

“Like that would’ve helped, you fucking outlaws.” Clarke spat.

Lexa’s jaw set. “Like your people are any better? Murders, the lot of you. And here, in the palm of my hand, I have your so called ‘family’s names, numbers, and addresses.” She snapped.

Clarke felt herself begin to shake. Lexa had the power to obliterate everything, everyone, anything she ever loved and knew. It was all her fault. “You bitch!”

Lexa flinched once more. “Clarke, I didn’t do it. I haven’t even opened it.” She pushed it back into her pocket, Clarke’s tears rolling freely once more. She looked guilty, apologetic even.

“Why? Saving it so I can watch?” Clarke gasped. “So I can see the look on their faces when you kill-”

She took a step back, accompanied by a deep breath. “No….” She sighed. “Clarke. You don’t understand. I’m not…. we’re not like that. You need to know the truth.”

“Oh, I don’t understand? Is that it?” Clarke scoffed.

“Mockery is-” Lexa was cut off.

“Not the product of a strong mind, Clarke.” Clarke mocked, rolling her eyes.

Despite all that happened, Lexa’s face bore the hint of an amused smile. Clarke clearly did not share the sentiment, her face contorted into an expression of pure anger. “You broke my god damn mind, Lexa.”

Lexa sighed, turning for the door in a graceful motion.

Clarke nearly tripped trying to follow. “Where are you going?” She demanded.

“To get you some food. And the truth.” Lexa replied, sliding out of the small opening without looking back.

Clarke heard her demand something to Gustus, and he slipped into the room.

“What now?” Clarke demanded, practically yelling at his unflinching, hulking figure.

Gustus eyed her, as if sizing her up. “Heda told me to watch you. Lincoln has too much sympathy. Conflict of interest.”

“How the fuck could I possibly escape if you lock the door?” Clarke snapped, falling desperately back to her original seat against the wall.

“Not escape.” Gustus’ voice was gruff, no emotion in his monotonous drone. “ _Heda_ fears you’ll kill yourself, _Wanheda_.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. Kill herself? And _Wanheda_? What the hell was that? Her head was spinning, and she felt her blood boil for that umpteenth time that morning.

* * *

 

Clarke cracked an eye open when she felt Gustus move across the room, kneeling to her level. It had been almost an hour, since Lexa’s departure.

Clarke had time to let out her anger, grieve, and then get angry and calm all over again. All this with her eyes closed, as she tried to imagine herself anywhere but in that rotten hell.

Gustus had remained deathly silent until that moment. He put a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, causing her to flinch violently under his touch. She calmed when she realized he meant no harm.

Yet.

“Doctor.” Gustus never called her Clarke. She quickly grew accustomed to it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” Clarke echoed, backing herself up against the wall resolutely. “Where? Where’s Lexa?”

“She asked me to cut your binds and escort you up to her office, assuming you wouldn’t try to run. Which would be very stupid, considering that she has your people’s information.” Gustus’ tone suggested no room for negotiation.

“She’s…setting me free?” Clarke couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, if you talk to her first.” Gustus nodded, brandishing a knife of his own. He made short work of her leg bindings, and then she turned so that he could cut the ropes binding her wrists. With little force, they came off, and Clarke brought her sore, red wrists together, eyeing them disdainfully.

“You should not have struggled.” Gustus clicked his tongue. “These marks are your own doing.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “So if a fox gets its leg caught in a trap and tries to chew its way out, it’s the fox’s fault?”

Gustus eyed her with a hint of amusement. Clarke couldn’t believe it. “The fox is known for being a particularly clever creature. The fox should know it’s captor wouldn’t dream of killing her, capable as she may be….and even if she should.” He grunted that last part, leading Clarke outside the door.

Clarke felt a strange flutter in her stomach when she imagined Lexa as her captor.

* * *

 

Gustus had ensured that Clarke was taken up to Lexa’s office from the back elevator, so that she wouldn’t feel inspired to shout anything unsavory or cause a scene.

Which she wouldn’t have, anyway, but precautions were precautions.

Clarke half expected to be spat at or beaten on her way to Lexa’s from the secretaries, the other guards, Anya, or Lincoln. No one dared. In fact, Clarke was greeted normally, with the usual smiles of those who worked there. Clarke deduced that no one but Lexa’s inner circle new. She felt a little better with this knowledge until a new thought struck her.

She was in her dress, disheveled as it was- her eye makeup smeared to achieve the look of a raccoon (which Clarke did not find half as sexy on herself as she did on Lexa after a long work day).

She realized that she must’ve looked like she was doing the walk of shame…with Gustus.

_Fantastic._

Gustus knocked twice on Lexa’s door before taking his post outside, and Clarke slipped in, cheeks burning red.

Lexa was at her desk, and Clarke noticed the ceramic dagger she’d crafted for Lexa was still there. She felt like an idiot all over again, a part of her aching for even having made the stupid thing.

“Clarke, have a seat.” Lexa motioned to the chair in front of her desk, which had been wiped clear, save for the dagger. Clarke finally got a chance to eye the clock, which read nine. The morning sun was shining well into the office, illuminating the girl Clarke had once perceived as a glorious angel.

More like Satan, now. Raven was right.

“Do you need anything? Some coffee maybe? I have some breakfast…” she motioned to the bags of what appeared to be bagels and maybe fruit behind her.

Clarke’s heart would have burned upon the realization that she went out and got them herself, just for Clarke.

If Clarke didn’t hate her so much in that moment, of course.

 “Why don’t we drop the formalities and-” Clarke’s intended venomous statement was interrupted by her own growling stomach. She sighed and leaned back into her chair. Betrayed by her own body. Not for the first time around Lexa, but this was certainly a….different hunger.

“Eat, Clarke. That’s an order.” Lexa responded with exasperation, handing Clarke a plate.

“Since when do I take orders from you?” Clarke grumbled.

“As of now.” Lexa was trying to assert her dominance, and Clarke was doing the same. What a clusterfuck it was. Her eyes fell to Clarke’s wrist, worn and red with marks from her brief period of captivity. “You’re hurt…” She murmured, trying desperately not to examine Clarke’s hand. “You struggled…”

Clarke set her plate down on her lap. “Yeah yeah, I’m a captured fox and you’re a bitch. Whatever.”

Lexa’s face contorted to one of pure confusion.

“I’m a….you’re a…..what? Is that slang? I don't understand…..” Lexa looked dumbfounded, clearly not understanding due to Clarke’s omission of her conversation with Gustus. She tilted her head curiously.

Clarke looked away, knowing that was her true weakness. If this were a mere day prior, she would've laughed at Lexa’s adorable confused behavior.

But this was not yesterday.

This had all the dull aching and agony of today.“I’m fine, Lexa. I’m a doctor, remember? Even though you probably forgot that in your haste to use me….”

“I have not forgotten what you've done for my people. Lincoln, especially. But you should tend to that.” Lexa commented, sitting in her chair, facing Clarke with a look of authority. “You shouldn’t have tried so hard to get free. I admire your perseverance but look what it’s done…”

“You did just use a date rape drug on me and try to kidnap me.” Clarke pointed out, pain lacing her tone.

“You thought that I would…” Lexa trailed off, looking the slightest bit guilty.

“I don’t know what to think, Lexa.” Clarke sighed. “I don’t even know who it is that I’m talking to.”

At that, Lexa stiffened.The warmth, the laughter, the bonding. It was all gone. Gone, or at least buried, under a stiff, rigid hate. One they both so haphazardly contributed to.  

She reached forward, under her desk, producing a large, white rolled up paper. She carefully unrolled it over the desk, and revealed to Clarke, with great care, a map of the city and its greater area. On it were small X’s in red and blue, circles, notes of all kinds, and cut-like tears in the paper.

Clarke leaned forward curiously. “What am I looking at?”

Lexa leaned forward as well, fingers tracing the map. “My work since I’ve…taken up where my parents left off.”

Clarke looked confused before nodding. “Oh…So this is your…gang activity. Your territory.”

Lexa looked unshaken. “Call it what you will. This is a current copy of our standing.”

“What are the red X’s?” Clarke asked. “There are a lot of those around here…” She motioned to the border between the East and West side.

“Casualties.” Lexa replied grimly, and Clarke choked on her bagel, air suddenly a very deadly commodity. “Colors represent different…affiliations.”

Clarke noticed that there was more than one color, rather a plethora, of gangs. The main were the Grounders and the Arkers, but Clarke could count as many as twelve laid out before her.

She couldn't believe it. Bellamy and Lexa practically controlled the entirety of it all. Their kingdom, of death, bloodshed….betrayal. What a burden to wear that crown.

“Holy shit.” Clarke breathed, eyes watering, whether it was from the news or the bagel, she wasn’t too sure.

“Indeed.” Lexa’s reply was formal, cold, cutting. She eyed the map with disdain, and Clarke suddenly felt very responsible for at least a few deaths on that map. She had been a cohort of Bellamy and Lexa after all.

She was not exempt from the feeling of guilt that began to unravel within her, like a dropped spool of mistakes that continuously unnerved her from the inside out.

“Clarke.” Lexa spoke as she reached into the drawer of her desk, pulling out a large off-yellow envelope. She undid the seal with a delicate flick of her finger and dumped out the contents onto the desk, over the map.

Clarke’s eyes widened. The envelope contained photos, at least a hundred, of different people, meeting, talking. Some were senators, politicians. Her jaw dropped. Some were of her. Bellamy and Octavia. Raven and Murphy. Some were of teenagers, no more than sixteen, Clarke guessed.

Clarke’s heart began pounding in her chest. Lexa had known everything about her this whole time, and she didn’t so anything reckless. Maybe there was hope? She felt violated, in every aspect of the word. She felt sick to her already churning stomach.

“What….” Clarke breathed. “Who gave you the right….? What are these?” Her hands delicately traced the thin paper frames of a few of the photos.

“These are some of the ‘players’ of our so called game.” Lexa responded coolly, flippantly, leaning back in her seat. “My people are always watching. They’re everywhere.”

Clarke balked. “You think Bellamy isn’t doing the same?”

_Damn it Clarke. Way to keep your own head above water._

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Lexa spoke cuttingly. “Tell me, Clarke. What is it that strikes you, about some of these images?”

“What are you, a shrink?” Clarke mumbled. She felt as if she were being psychoanalyzed.

“If I were a mental health professional, I’d likely have a better method of getting you to shut up.” Lexa fired back.

_Ouch. The Commander was definitely back._

“These ones…” Clarke motioned to the youngest teenagers in several photos. “They’re just kids. But they look….oddly familiar.” She commented.

“Do you know why that is?” Lexa looked incredibly, passionately angry.

Clarke looked up at her in mild surprise. “No…I….Lexa, what are we doing here? Just tell me.”

Lexa’s jaw set, and Clarke had to look away from her chiseled jawline for a moment. She was beyond angry, and Clarke couldn’t fathom why.

“This rivalry has been a long standing one, something I wouldn’t dare dream to dissipate, because that’s just the way things are, Clarke.” Lexa rose suddenly, and Clarke felt very small, insignificant to her prowess. “But your….friend. _Bellamy.”_ She spat the name with such contempt that Clarke actually leaned back as well. “Has broken the cardinal fucking rule of our little war.”

Clarke’s body had chills suddenly. She was frightened, genuinely concerned for herself and Bellamy and everyone else involved. Lexa wasn’t fucking around anymore.

“Bellamy and Octavia Blake are the first generation to push such a low end, rejected product to the streets. This isn’t surprising, and normally, I wouldn’t give a damn. But now…” Her voice rose, and she shoved a picture into Clarke’s hand, of an Arker, approaching a young student, presumably outside of their high school. “They’re getting fucking children to join up. How? By getting them addicted to their cheap, lowly shit. They’re what? Sixteen, seventeen year olds Clarke…They don’t know what it is that they’re getting themselves into.”

Clarke’s jaw actually did drop. In fact, her whole body began shaking with something other than fear. Anger. Bellamy would never let Octavia get away with anything of the sort. But it was okay for others to suffer, to waste away at the hands of his negligence?

Lexa met Clarke’s eyes full on, pressing forward with her declaration. “Clarke. We are the resistance. The only thing that’s left from keeping Bellamy from dominating all of D.C. Every color you see on this map is a “gang” as you put it. We came so far. We recruited and outdid and….eliminated so many to get to this point. Believe me. That power is not to be trifled with, and certainly not to be in the hands of someone as arrogant and sadistic as Bellamy Blake.”

Clarke shook her head. “The lesser of two evils?” She sighed. “That doesn’t make your cause one worth fighting for, either.” She remembered how many pale, shaking teenagers she’d seen in the recovery wards. How lifeless they looked, their souls devoid of any will.

“The devil you know, Clarke.” Lexa pursed her lips.

“I don’t know you.” Clarke rose, anger bubbling inside of her. “I don’t know anyone, apparently! Apparently I’m just a fucking pawn to either side, and I can’t actually help anyone who needs it, because my so called ‘friends’ are too busy corrupting everything-” She was yelling, almost. She reached forward for the ceramic dagger she’d made earlier, the one with Lexa’s name inscribed onto it.

Lexa’s eyes widened and she stepped in front of Clarke, as if to stop her from doing any damage.

She took it off the desk in a hurried grasp and aimed for the wall, throwing it with all her might.

Luckily, ceramic was a lot heavier and slower than she’d accounted for, and Lexa caught it with a rapid reflexive draw, pulling it back down from the air it had just cut through. “Don’t.” Lexa gently set the gift back on her desk, and Clarke missed the great care with which she handled it.

Clarke sat back down into her chair, head in her hands. Lexa made a movement to come over, to comfort her, and then quickly thought better of it, drawing back to a respectful distance.

Clarke really needed that embrace.

“I understand that this is a lot to take in.” Lexa spoke diplomatically now. “But what I’m about to ask of you is necessary, Clarke. You don’t have to be a pawn. You can be a knight, for me.”

Clarke looked up, through eyes blurred by tears. Tears of anger, and frustration at her own futility. And Lexa seemed to understand that.

“I need your help, Clarke.” Lexa sighed. “I can’t do this without you.”

Clarke’s stomach flipped, the way it always seemed to when Lexa said her name, like it was some sort of holy validation from the heavens themselves. Lexa’s words were laced with the sweetest drug, golden and warm.

But Clarke knew better this time. She knew what Lexa’s words were capable of. She knew that hoping, believing- allowing the warmth to spread within her- that was the true danger.

She thought of Bellamy then, crying, pleading with her to help him ‘protect their family’. And the way she went along with it. It was humiliating, now, knowing what he’d done to protect their image, rather. To keep his pockets lined and his suits crisp.

Neither side was in the right. Bellamy with his ruthless practices and Lexa, killing for what she believed was right, but killing and dealing with illegal substances nonetheless. And the Arkers, with their unbelievable egos and entitlement, and the Grounders with their sanctimonious preachy lies.  None of it made sense.

And once again, for that day, Clarke was numb. Numb to Lexa, to Bellamy, to where she was.

To _who_ she was. And who she needed to _be._ And Clarke Griffin realized that two, although disparate as the sun and the moon, maybe needed to converge. For her black and white polarized world to bleed into a pool of grey, so that she could find the truth for herself.

Because Clarke Griffin was the only person Clarke could trust. And that realization hurt the most.

“What do you want from me, Lexa?” Clarke sighed, glancing up at her once more. “Just say it.”

Lexa looked pained whenever Clarke spoke, and Clarke couldn’t fathom why. She wiped her tears on her arm gently and awaited an answer.

“I need you to help me end Bellamy Blake’s reign.” Lexa spoke with finality, as if she’d been contemplating the idea for weeks. Maybe she had, while Clarke was off falling in love and chasing butterflies and pretending that everything was okay when it most certainly was all shot to hell.

Clarke just took in a sharp breath. “How.” It wasn’t a question, really. Clarke knew what was coming.

Lexa looked surprised. “You tell him….tell him you’re seeing me. That way he won’t be suspicious when we’re together. Tell him you’re trying to…break down my walls. To earn my trust.”

She picked up a pen absently, twirling it around her fingers with expert precision. Her eyes were searching Clarke for a viable response.

Clarke grimaced. “And all the while, I’m feeding you his private information? His moves? His people?”

Lexa nodded slowly.

“How do you know I won’t turn and tell Bellamy everything?” Clarke glanced up defiantly, eyeing her deft fingers.

“You won’t, because I had _this_ made.” Lexa spoke in a calculating demeanor, holding up a flash drive from her pocket. “Your contacts, your family…everything. You can help me avoid bloodshed, Clarke. For every good tip you give me, I can have my people there first. No one else has to die. Unless I hear you changed your mind….and if it does happen…believe me, I _will_ know.”

Clarke swallowed thickly. “And if I don’t? What if I just…leave this madness behind?” Her words weren’t close to defiant. She didn’t enough confidence to muster that kind of tone.

Lexa suddenly turned to face her wholly, throwing the pen at breakneck speed, as it buried itself into the map, the gust of air from her move knocking pictures off in a flurry.

Clarke glanced down in shock. The pen had buried itself under the name “Blake Tower”. It had caused hole, the tear widening a little due to her efforts.

“I’d hate for you, and them, to become another X on this map, Clarke.” Lexa took a step forward, leaning over the desk.

Lexa Woods issued the threat like it was of no consequence at all.

* * *

 

“Clarke! Hey! Wait up!” Lincoln’s voice followed her as she made her way onto the vacant elevator, trying desperately not to fall apart at the seams.

“Lincoln.” Clarke sighed, holding the door open for him. She took him in. He was wearing a suit, one that fit him nicely. Anyone would be lucky to have Lincoln, and Clarke may have just lost him as a friend. Nothing was okay.

“Clarke.” Lincoln huffed out, coming to stand in front of her. “We should talk.”

“What’s there to discuss, Lincoln?” Clarke tried to keep the venom out of her tone. She lied to him first. He was just doing as he was told. “The commander hates me, I have to turn on my own people…” she trailed off, leaning her head against the cold wall. “I can’t do this. I can’t pretend to be friends with someone I lied to…”

“Pretend?” Lincoln offered her a wry smile. “Who’s pretending? Were you pretending to take that bullet out of my back?”

“We both were, weren’t we?” Clarke grumbled. “That’s why you were so nice to me. Because Lexa ordered you to earn my trust, right?”

“Lexa Woods does not micro-manage her people like that, Clarke.” Lincoln replied amusedly. “Smile, doctor. You survived. The worst is over.”

“She threatened everything, Lincoln!” Clarke snapped. “I don’t know how to defend myself, or anyone….my people might die because of me!” She huffed out as she slid against the back panel of the elevator, bunching herself up. “I can’t do this.”

“Klark.” Lincoln murmured, kneeling to become level with her sulking shoulders. “ _Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim.” Get knocked down, get back up._

“I can’t.” Clarke sighed. “Not alone. Not like this.”

Lincoln stuck out a bronzed hand, muscled and powerful, and representative of all things Grounder. “You’re not alone, Clarke.”

Clarke glanced up into his warm eyes, tentatively taking his hand.

He noticed her goosebumps then, and took off his coat jacket, draping it over her shoulders like Lexa had done.

“Why?” Clarke asked suddenly, through the numbness.

“You look cold, and I’m taking you home…?” Lincoln offered an explanation.

“No…thank you, but…that’s not what I’m asking.” Clarke murmured, turning to face him. “Why are you helping me?”

Lincoln looked thoughtful for a moment, his stoic expression revealing deep thought. “I don’t believe in sides, Clarke. I believe in right, and wrong. And helping you put an end to all this? That’s right, to me.”

Clarke felt demolished. Here she was, redefining her way of existence. She’d shunned herself for believing in moral honesty, right and wrong, and seeing the world the way she had.

Here was another soul, so good and pure, in Lincoln. He believed in the same doctrine of justice and injustice, right and wrong. Yet he was able to put his feelings aside to serve Lexa.

Clarke took a deep breath, listening to Lincoln’s deep, baritone humming as the elevator rolled to a stop.

She didn’t have to choose any side but her own, not just yet.

* * *

 

Lexa watched Clarke’s descending figure enter Lincoln’s car across the street, stories below. She looked so fragile, shaken, and small from Lexa’s perch.

To Lexa, Clarke Griffin was anything but small, or irrelevant. Clarke Griffin was dangerous.

“Heda.” Gustus stepped into the room, and Lexa heard him coming from a long time before. Sometimes she wished she could be surprised, just to remember what spontaneity felt like.

She felt that with Clarke.

“Gostos.” Lexa’s accent was thick with an emotion that he understood to be pain. He dared not speak of it before her.

“Lincoln is taking her home. She will report back in one week’s time.” He replied slowly, carefully, regarding the young woman’s expressions with expert analysis. He’d known her since she was a child.

He knew when she was in pain.

“I know, I sent for him.” Lexa’s response was passive as she eyed the window’s view, watching the sun pour its hot, golden liquid over a frosty city, waiting to be thawed.

“You don’t think he’s a liability?” Gustus asked with concern. “The two are close.”

“She trusts him. There’s nothing wrong with trust. Trust does not fell empires, Gustus. Lack of faith in the leadership, however…” She muttered as she turned to face him.

“It is not you I lack faith in, Heda. It’s the _doctor_. I cannot trust that this…temporary…alliance will end well, for you. She’s too…self-righteous.”

Lexa allowed herself an amused smile on her curvaceous lips. “That she is.”

She turned then, approaching Gustus with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Nou get yu daun, Gostos. Bilaik yu don tel ai op otaim, ogeda hukop ste ifi.” _Stop worrying, Gustus. Like you've always told me, all alliances are risky._

“This is no alliance, _heda_.” Gustus sighed, rubbing a hand behind his neck. “This is blackmail, at best. One foul turn and I’ll have to put her down.”

Lexa’s gaze steeled, and she felt a constricting in her chest. “No _, you_ won’t.”

Gustus looked unsure for a moment. “ _Leksa_ …” his tone was weary, knowing that arguing with her was futility in itself.

“ _I_ will.” Lexa’s voice was pure tension. If Clarke spiraled out of control, Lexa would put her back in her place.

And then some.

* * *

 

Lincoln, ever the gentleman, even went so far as to open Clarke’s door for her.

As they pulled away, Clarke eyed Lexa’s office window with a pang in her heart before turning her attention to her rapidly buzzing phone. She felt unsafe. Had Lexa bugged it? Was she even capable of something like that?

_Relax, Clarke. These are gangsters, not the NSA._

“What the hell is it?” Clarke mumbled, and then she tilted her head. “Oh, duh. Nothing blows up my phone quite like an Octaven group chat.”

“An…octaven…what?” Lincoln muttered, scrunching up his face in confusion.

“You should know, you stole my phone.” Clarke muttered, throwing a scowl in his direction.

“Hey, Lexa would have my ass if I didn’t listen to her. What would you have done?” Lincoln defended, turning the wheel absently. “Wait…something tells me you like the idea of Lexa having your ass.” He smirked.

Clarke turned red in seconds, cheeks flushing with color. “No!” She shook her head. “Don’t be so…childish.”

“Mhmm.” Lincoln rolled his eyes. “Deny deny deny.” He tsked teasingly.

“Lexa’s a heartless bitch.” Clarke’s jaw set.

“Takes one to run an empire.” Lincoln commented, unfazed. “But…” he sighed. “You were saying? Oc…tober?”

“ _Octaven_.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “My two friends, whom, I’m sure you’ve spied on at some point. Octavia and Raven.”

Lincoln balked. “I...I don’t…” he shook his head. “Intel is Anya’s thing. I’m the weapon. They point me and shoot me.”

“Hey hey.” Clarke shook her head. “No pointing and shooting at my friends, okay? I said I’d handle it.”

“I know you will. Believe me, Clarke, that’s the _last_ thing I want.” Lincoln stated as he made his way through the traffic, eyes settling disdainfully on a red light.

“Jesus, Octavia…” Clarke muttered, scrolling through the messages. “I get it. We should totally go to the restaurant to check out the waiter’s ass.”

Lincoln braked for a moment, and Clarke flew forward, lucky not to hit the dashboard.

“Ow! What the hell, Lincoln!” Clarke muttered, gripping at her now strained neck.

“Sorry, sorry.” Lincoln stuttered. “There was…I…was…a squirrel. Yeah, there was a squirrel on the road.”

Clarke eyed him like he had just announced that he was a Martian. “A squirrel? You’re a god damned assassin and you brake for squirrels? Not that it’s a bad thing but….wow.”

Lincoln didn’t answer, and instead, continued for Clarke’s apartment absently.

“Oh, I read that wrong. Raven like the waiter’s ass.” Clarke murmured, and she thought she heard Lincoln breathe a sigh of relief and lessen his grip on the wheel, which had almost turned his knuckles white.

“You okay?” Clarke asked hesitantly.

“I hate traffic. Makes me feel antsy.” Lincoln answered, gazing out his window.

“Don’t we all.” Clarke nodded as she leaned back, taking in the morning rush and swell of traffic, horns, cussing, and turmoil.

She felt like it perfectly depicted her life.

* * *

 

“Clarke!” Raven, as per usual, was the first to throw herself into Clarke’s embrace, grinning to see her.

Clarke barely had time to change, shower, and prepare herself before making her way to Bellamy’s office, coming to fill him in on the situation.

Or, her version of the situation. She was going for neutrality, and Lexa didn’t have to know.

She was going to fix everything.

Raven, shedding her usual leather in exchange for a tank top and jeans, looked happier than ever to see Clarke. She threw tight, muscled arms around her as she pulled her in close. Her brunette hair, pulled back in its intricate braided ponytail, swished around her.

Clarke had barely set foot into Bellamy’s office, and still hadn’t made it inside when she was attacked by her friend.

“Whoa, hey!” Clarke took a stumble backwards, and Raven steadied her apologetically. “Why aren’t you inside?”

Raven made a face. “I’ve been sentenced to guard the gates of hell.” She motioned to Bellamy’s office door.

Clarke furrowed her brow. “You only ever do that when he and Octavia have important conferences…who’s in there now?”

“Some…woman. I don’t know.” Raven admitted uneasily. “They wouldn’t give me a name, and I think Bellamy wants to keep this quiet. O doesn’t even know.”

Clarke looked surprised. “Where is Octavia, then?”

Raven smirked. “She’s meeting us at that café I was telling you about. Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“But…. the door…Bellamy…I have to tell him…” Clarke tried to get her sentence out as Raven began tugging her away. “You can tell Octavia. Over lunch. With that fine tight ass.”

“Gee, how flattering.” Clarke mumbled.

“Not yours, the waiter’s. But you’ve totally got it going on, too, Griff. You finally get into the commander’s pants?”

Clarke turned red. “No…Well…actually, I-”

Raven’s phone started blaring, and she rolled her eyes, digging it from her pocket. “One sec.” she mouthed to Clarke as they kept walking, making their way down the elevator and out towards her jeep.

Clarke tried not to realize that recently, she’d spent a little too much time going up and down tall buildings, getting interrupted by phone calls, and having awkward chats in elevators. And stumbling, verbally and physically. Why was she always stumbling?

* * *

 

If Clarke thought she’d been a stumbling mess, she clearly hadn’t seen Octavia Blake.

Now _that_ girl couldn’t hold a conversation for all of three seconds, and to her credit, she wasn’t staring off at the waiter’s backside.

She was staring off into space, a dumb smile on her gorgeous features, often missing an insult hurled her way from Reyes.

The café, low-key and inconspicuous, deep in the heart of their territory, was free of grounders and Arkers alike on that afternoon. The lazy ceiling fan spun in the air, ushering in a few customers here and there with the odd breeze. Octavia had, of course, shown up and strings had immediately been pulled to give them the best, private seats the patio could offer.

Which Bellamy would never approve of, claiming it was a drive-by hazard.

Not that anyone ever got shot in a drive-by, in broad daylight, on one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of the city…but he was always a stickler for his own imaginary rules.

It was almost refreshing, for Clarke, to remember that she was just a normal person, having lunch, a drink or two, and a nice conversation with her two best friends.

Except none of that was true, save for the drinks. One of her friends was mentally vacant, it seemed, and the other was too busy insulting her to notice that they hadn’t ordered any food yet.

Clarke tuned back in to Raven, who was snapping her fingers in front of the younger girl’s face, trying to draw her attention from whatever chasm she’d lost it in.

“Hey! Earth to Octavia!” Raven snapped loudly, and Octavia blinked rapidly, shoving Raven’s hands away.

“Hey, I’m paying attention! Fuck off!” Octavia cried, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

So much for peace, even here.

“Yeah?” Raven raised a brow, challenge tinging her tone. “What did I _just_ say?”

“Uh…” Octavia turned red, blushing furiously. “Something about…engineering? And cars?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Where the hell are you _up there_?” She motioned to Octavia’s head, behind intricately braided locks of hair.

Clarke had sworn she’d seen that braiding pattern before, somewhere. She narrowed her eyes, refusing to partake in their childish idiocy. Besides, she had to think of what she was going to tell Octavia to relay to Bellamy, if she could even get across to her in time.

“And since when do you _braid_ your hair like that?” Raven made a face.

Octavia looked offended suddenly. “You don’t like it?” She raised her phone up, looking at herself in the reflection.

Raven bit her lip. “Fuck. I do, actually.” She admitted. “But….that’s not the point!”

“ _Guys_.” Clarke’s tone demanded attention.

Octavia turned to her at the same time as Raven, and the two nearly bumped heads. “Oh Clarke…you were so quiet I almost forgot you were here…” Octavia spoke apologetically.

“I noticed.” Clarke’s reply was dry as she sipped her iced tea.

“She has something to tell you and Bellamy, O.” Raven informed Octavia, leaning back in her seat. Her fingers toyed with the metal Raven necklace around her neck, the one Finn had given her before his untimely passing.

“What’s up?” Octavia turned to her, attention now fully in place.

 Clarke sighed, leaning forward. She had to force a smile. “Well…” She began unsurely. “Last night I went on a date with Lexa.”

Octavia’s eyes widened and her hands flew up in surprise, knocking a drink on Raven’s thigh.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Raven yanked a napkin from the table, drying her pants off. “Good one, klutz.”

“Oh!” Octavia stood to grab some napkins at a semi-distant, vacant table. “ _Moba_!”

Raven didn’t seem to hear her, but Clarke certainly did. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. _Did she just….?_

Octavia was grace, and poise, and knew how to handle herself at least half as well as Clarke knew Lexa was capable of. How had she turned into this blathering, carelessly uncoordinated disaster of a girl, so rapidly?

 “What?” Raven glanced up at Clarke’s surprised expression with a look of worry. “Does it look like I pissed myself?”

Octavia had just returned, dumping the napkins onto the table for Raven to use. “My bad.” She spoke again. Differently, as Clarke noted.

At that, Clarke snapped back into it. Shaking her head, she lifted the fallen glass.

“You were saying, Clarke?” Octavia piped up again, eyes glittering with excitement. “A date?”

“At _La Montagne_.” Clarke coughed out.

“Holy shit.” Raven and Octavia both spoke out at the same time.

“She….what?” Octavia couldn’t believe her ears. “Clarke, do you know what that means?”

Raven butted in. “And you didn’t sleep with her? What’s she gotta do, buy you a damn jet? She probably spent as much money…”

Clarke’s heart hammered in her chest as she remembered the night’s events. She saw the joy in Raven’s gaze, and she remembered how she’d felt. The unfettered joy, the feeling that she was the luckiest girl in existence. And for what?

All lies.

“So…are you two…an item?” Octavia pressed. “Shit, Clarke. This is huge. Play your cards right and-”

“We can send her world crashing down around her!” Raven’s eyes were alight with a fire that Clarke knew was kindled by Finn, and fueled by his demise.

Octavia looked stunned, unsure even.

Raven looked ready to kill.

Clarke knew what she’d just started. She braced herself for the storm that was about to become her life.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we see a glimpse of what's to come. (Not really though, because there's a lot that Clarke needs to learn.) I apologize, I wanted to add more to this chapter, but it was becoming too lengthy. Sunday morning (around 7 am PST) will be the next update.
> 
> (Possibly) Next time: Clarke meets and decides she hates Ontari, Lexa decides she hates Niylah, and Raven spies on a dear friend. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please feel free to leave me a comment/kudos. (It totally speeds up the writing process by encouraging me-I was saving an update for Sunday, but how could I after all that amazing feedback?!) Thank you!
> 
> Follow me at Effortlessly-Opulent for story artwork, edits, asks, etc. Thank you all!


	8. Monsters and Motorcycles

Lexa gave Clarke two weeks to get over whatever trauma she’d caused before she expected Clarke back to work again, and Clarke tried not to wonder what would happen if anyone got injured and needed her attention during her break period.

It was, in essence, a lot to mull over.

She’d been caught red handed. Lexa had threatened her family.

She learned that the Blakes, while she never thought them to be saints, were perhaps the greater of two evils.

Octavia was definitely sleeping with Lincoln. Clarke was no idiot.

Was that why Lincoln had been so amicable? Did he dare tell Octavia what Lexa had planned?

Was it within Clarke’s prerogative to even say anything?

_And they all thought she was sleeping with Lexa Woods._

The thoughts of Lexa were constant in her mind, permanently etched into her core, her being. They weren’t always healthy, and they certainly weren’t like before. In times of anger and frustration, Clarke would always take to art- she’d portray her demons and fears in harsh undertones, as if it were a viable method of revenge. It was more like a coping strategy, but Clarke wasn’t ready to admit that.

So she drew.

She tried to take her anger out on Lexa’s form, which manifested in a great many of her works. Her emerald eyes would sparkle even then, and she’d tilt her head so curiously. Clarke remembered that she was young, that there was youth beneath her schooled features and strict provisions.

And then, right from the canvas, Lexa would whisper, “I’m sorry, Clarke.” And Clarke’s heart would be torn from her chest all over again.

So she’d rip the pieces before they were even finished, and she felt like she was hurting Lexa somehow.

Why did it hurt so much? They’d both just been doing their duties, but the trust….if it could be called that, was sacred to Clarke. And now, it was gone.

The Blakes were beyond thrilled that Clarke had, as they put it, “Held Lexa Woods on a tight leash”. They wanted Clarke to consummate it, to be certain that it was genuine.

And then they wanted her to strike.

But Clarke was through being a pawn. Lexa had bestowed an unwanted knighthood upon her. She was through with both sides.

Clarke was going to become her own queen.

With this agonizing wait, Clarke spent a great portion of her time off drawing, catching up with Welles, and planning out her strategy to get answers.

Because nothing was going to stop her from hearing the truth. Not from Lexa’s mouth, her luscious lips bearing lies that, when whispered to Clarke, could make her weak in a heartbeat. Not Bellamy’s knowing smile, behind which Clarke had invested her entire trust and adolescence, and her love.

The real truth. Unclouded by her sentiments and emotions and inability to distinguish right from wrong.

The whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help her, God.

* * *

 

The first day back had been as awkward as Clarke had envisioned. Lincoln, her possible friend, wasn’t even there to soften the blow.

And to make matters worse, Nia’s golden daughter, Ontari, had arrived. Before Clarke. She and Lexa were currently in Lexa’s office; which Clarke had just been told she needed to report to.

Awkward did not begin to cover the sentiment Clarke felt as she stood, donning her best mask of professionalism, before smoothing out her white coat that she wore as a professional courtesy. She glanced at herself in her phone’s camera, eyeing the makeup was she was wearing.

She’d put in a little extra effort today, part of her plans for that evening. All she had to do was survive, and then she could treat herself.

How poorly could the day possibly go?

Anya stepped in front of Clarke before she’d taken a step out of her office, barring Clarke from moving any further. Her gaze was steely, her regal features pulled back into a look of annoyance.

Which, for her, was nothing new. Clarke wasn’t sure Anya was ever just…happy.

“I think I’ve found someone I hate more than you.” Anya spoke lowly, and her words would have cut Clarke, if she hadn’t already developed an immunity.

Clarke shifted her weight to her heels, rocking back awkwardly. “Am I supposed to…. answer that?”

“No, you should shut up and listen, because what I’m about to tell you is pertinent.” Anya’s snark had no end.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Okay? Let’s hear it.”

“Lexa is currently hosting Ontari Queen, Nia’s daughter. She intends to be here for weeks, possibly months.” Anya spoke quickly, leaving no room for questioning. “Lexa knows that she has to keep her chief investor happy, so she’s showing Ontari the ropes. I don’t trust her or her mother. People here tend to be…liars.”

Clarke was aching to meet this girl. What was she like? Another Lexa? Perhaps she was softer, like Clarke? Was she all professionalism? Was she more attractive than Clarke?

“Hey.” Anya snapped long, thin fingers in front of Clarke’s vision. “You with me, traitor?”

“Don’t call me that.” Clarke defended with a sigh.

“I’ll call you what you are.” Anya growled impatiently. “And listen.” She grabbed Clarke’s collar, yanking her forward. She leaned into Clarke’s face, inches apart. “If you _ever_ hurt Lexa again, I will decimate everything you love. Are we clear, _doctor_?”

Clarke was shell shocked. She nodded, knowing it was the only way to get Anya to release her. She gasped for air, trying to think of a formidable response. Hurt Lexa? _She_ was the one who was _kidnapped_! What the hell was she-

“Doctor Griffin.” A passing secretary poked her head in through the doorway, ignoring the fact that Clarke was clutching her neck in an attempt to breathe. “Ms. Woods is ready for you now.”

“I’m…” Clarke nodded, hurriedly taking a step forward, away from Anya’s looming gaze. “I’m coming.”

* * *

 

Clarke knocked twice before pushing Lexa’s office door open. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

She didn’t even notice Ontari, because… _Lexa._ She’d opted for taking off her jacket, leaving her in a professional blouse, but…. _damn_. Her hair, pulled into a messy, loose bun, draped and framed her face with loose, wavy curls. Her sleeves were rolled, and was she _wearing glasses?_ They sat low on the bridge of her nose, and she held a pen, the same pen she’d threatened Clarke with, between her pearly white teeth. She looked thoughtfully at the folder before her before looking up.

If Clarke looked entranced, Lexa looked doubly so.

Lexa’s mouth parted, as if to speak, and yet, nothing came out. She must have noticed Clarke’s so called “extra effort” getting ready that morning.

No one said anything, and neither one had realized it.

And then Ontari, presumably, opened her mouth. She’d been standing beside Lexa and looking over her shoulder, who’d been seated in her chair.

“You must be Doctor Griffin.” Ontari stuck out a hand, and Clarke blinked, remembering to behave like a normal human being.

Sweet, saccharine perfume filled the air, and Clarke wasn’t sure whether it was hers or Lexa’s.

Clarke glanced up at her, and felt her stomach drop. _Okay, so Ontari wasn’t bad looking. At all_.

Her face, round and pulled into a polite smile, was tanned, like Lexa. She had bright, receptive hazel eyes and a knowing look behind them. Her brunette hair, shorter than Clarke and Lexa’s, fell around her shoulders neatly.

Her suit was clean, pressed, and expensive looking. Right up Lexa’s alley.

“I am. You must be Ontari. Pleasure to meet you.” Clarke felt Ontari grip her hand like a vice, a professional, firm double shake in place.

And then Ontari released her, and glance at Lexa with an expectant gaze and clearing of her throat.

Lexa rose from her seat then, upon seeing Clarke, and nodded once, shortly. “Doctor Griffin.”

“Ms. Woods.” Clarke’s voice had an edge to it. “You summoned me?”

Lexa’s eyes set on her firmly. “Yes. I’d like you to familiarize yourself with Ms. Queen here.” Lexa stated, making sure Clarke knew to address her as a superior. “She will be here often, and she’d like to know what it is that you do here.” Lexa’s gaze was cautious, and Clarke knew to lie.

“I mainly go through case studies for the various drugs, sometimes I go down to the lab and work with the others there.” Clarke replied coolly. “Boring, doctor stuff.” She added, and Lexa narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah?” Ontari tilted her head questioningly, and it wasn’t at all like Lexa’s endearing motion. It was threatening, cold, and calculating. Just like her mother. “My mother tells me you spend most of your time right here on this floor.”

Clarke fought her own expression of surprise away. “Uh…yes. Lexa likes to keep me close by….”

Lexa’s jaw tightened.

“-For reference.” Clarke explained.

“You know…” Ontari began, with a gentle hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “I was just telling Lexa- Oh, my apologies, you refer to her as “Ms. Woods…” The way she pronounced the name just dripped with sexual desire.

Or, to Clarke’s ears it did, anyway.

“It’s fine, continue.” Lexa offered her a half smile.

Clarke clenched her fists and nodded. So that was what Anya was referring to.

“I was just telling _Lexa_ here how I’ve studied various facets of running a successful business.” Ontari began. “And a key to success is hiring the most qualified staff possible.” She continued.

Clarke didn’t like where this was going.

“Perhaps you should consider putting a more…senior medical professional, or pharmacist in Doctor Griffin’s seat. Until she gets…experience, under her belt.” Ontari suggested, her tone rising at the end.

Clarke stiffened, and her eyes met Lexa’s in a wild gaze of disbelief. _Was she fucking serious?_ She was a…what? Twenty-something _business_ student and she was already commenting on Clarke’s years upon years of _med school?_

“That is…certainly worth noting, Ontari, thank you.” Lexa nodded slowly. “But I can assure you, Doctor Griffin is right where she belongs.” Her voice rang with authority, and Ontari removed her hand.

“You know what else I’ve read?” Ontari smiled sharply at Clarke.

“Please, indulge us.” Clarke couldn’t help that snark that escaped her lips.

Lexa shot her a hard glare.

“I’ve found that employees work cohesively if they see their boss in a less professional setting.” Ontari spoke deliberately.

She was making a fucking pass at Lexa.

“Well that’d be hard, considering I have no idea where Ms. Woods plays softball on the weekends.” Clarke scoffed sarcastically.

Lexa tilted her head adorably, the way that made Clarke weak inside. “Mixed Martial Arts, I’m afraid, softball was never my forte.”

Clarke wanted to laugh out loud. How fitting.

“Not _tha_ t improper of a setting.” Ontari pressed. “Perhaps a dinner?” She turned to Lexa, leaning her weight on her ever so slightly. “You could introduce me to a fine D.C. restaurant like I did for you in New York?” She batted long eyelashes.

Clarke felt sick. How…gross. She knew it was childish, but her sentiments were no longer of her own volition.

“I…suppose.” Lexa looked unsure, glancing at Clarke for apparent help, which Clarke evaded all together. “I’ll tell Anya to let a few of our…dedicated employees know.” She added quickly.

“Doctor Griffin?” Ontari turned to her. “Will we have the pleasure of your company?”

Clarke took a step back. “I uh…”

“Perhaps that’s unwise.” Lexa muttered at the same time.

“I…might have a date tonight, actually.” Clarke’s cheeks flushed, and she felt Lexa’s gaze boring into her.

“Oh, please bring him.” Ontari smirked. “I for one would love to get to know who I’ll be working with for the coming weeks.”

Clarke didn’t bother correcting her. “Uh…” She glanced at Lexa unsurely.

Lexa forced a rigid smile, one Clarke knew to be false. “Yes, Clarke. Join us.”

Clarke nodded, turning. “I should probably get back to work.”

Lexa whipped around, hand up in the air. “You’re dismissed.”

* * *

 

A few hours later into the afternoon, Lexa had dismissed the entirety of the upper floor to leave early for Ontari’s grand welcoming dinner, and Clarke was left to ponder her situation once more.

Clarke remained at her desk, struggling to find the willpower to rise and get on with her existence.

_Why were things always so complicated for her?_

Clarke spent a lot of time thinking like that, staring off into the abyss that had become her life.

She murmured to herself absently, one of her favorite quotes that she’d studied in school. _"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee."_

“Nietzsche.” Lexa’s low, velvety voice had a bit of rasp to it.

Startled, Clarke glanced up to see her, a few feet away from the desk, rolling her sleeves carelessly.

Clarke tried not to gaze at her toned arms and watch adorned wrist, and instead found solace in the ceiling tiles.

“So you think I’m a monster?” Lexa’s voice conveyed parts of hurt, but mostly skepticism.

“Who said I was thinking about you?” Clarke fired back. The two had been on uneasy terms, and for good reason.  “What if….what if _I_ am? A monster….” She shook her head. “By association…”

Lexa ignored her jab. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” She didn’t know how to console Clarke.

“So I can third-wheel your date with the hot new C.E.O to-be?” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Pass, _Miss Woods_.”

“You don’t like the idea of Ontari taking charge here? When I’m gone.” Lexa added, and Clarke wondered if she meant gone as in dead.

She felt a little cold, pulling her coat to her snugly.

“I won’t be here, then.” Clarke replied coolly. “I honestly don’t care.”

Lexa glanced away, as if slapped. Then she returned her gaze, hardened and crystalized, to Clarke’s equally steady look. “Do you have _something_ for me, Clarke?” The way she spoke the name was sharp, challenging.

Clarke met her gaze. “Not yet.” She replied lowly. “I guess things just aren’t…. happening.” She spoke lazily, disrespectfully.

Lexa wasn’t having it.

She took an aggressive step forward, and Clarke rose, the desk the only thing separating their bodies from a full on collision.

“You think I’m fucking around, Clarke?” Lexa’s voice was acidic, low and destructive. “Do you think this is a _game_?”

Clarke didn’t bat an eye. “If it were a game, I’d say you were losing.” Clarke’s voice was firm, steadier than before. “The desperation in your tone implies that.”

“I _will_ do this, Clarke. Maybe I’ll start with the A’s in your contacts. _Abby,_ perhaps?” Lexa’s voice was icy, and Clarke’s eyes widened.

Her jaw dropped and she could hear her heart hammering in her chest. Lexa knew about her mother.

“Good luck.” Clarke’s tone was thick with emotion. “I don’t think she even remembers me…. But you can’t just kill everyone to get what you want.” Clarke’s rebuttal was furious, her entire body heaving. She didn’t notice Lexa was mirroring her, sharp, shallow breaths racking her body.

“Yes, Clarke. I _can_.” Lexa made a movement to reach forward, as if to grab Clarke’s shoulders to make her understand, but she saw Clarke flinch.

And then she noticed the red mark, likely from Anya’s man handling of Clarke earlier and she froze, jaw dropping slightly.

She came around the desk, hands on Clarke’s neck instantly, delicately brushing over the irritated area. “What happened?” She demanded instantly.

Clarke almost got whiplash from the change in tone, the way Lexa’s voice was simultaneously filled with concern and blinding rage all at once.

Clarke didn’t answer. Lexa wasn’t giving her the truth. Why should _she?_

“Who did this, Clarke?” Lexa’s pitch rose a little, as the worry spilled over her tone. “Was it Bellamy? Did he hurt you, Clarke?”

Clarke couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me?”

Lexa retracted her hands unsurely. She looked on edge, and Clarke wondered why she was reacting the way she did.

“What, you scared you’ll lose your only spy?” Clarke shook her head.

Lexa’s jaw clicked as she clenched it. “Clarke.” She warned.

“Lexa.” Clarke echoed, grabbing her things. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She’d just stood up to Lexa Woods. And it felt amazing and terrible all at once.

Clarke didn’t cry this time.

“Maybe “ _monster”_ wasn’t so far off.” Lexa muttered to herself in the breeze of Clarke’s sudden absence.

* * *

 

“I have to say, Clarke, I’m surprised you called.” Niylah smiled brightly, genuinely as she slipped her hand in Clarke’s. “After Lexa’s…shakedown. It felt a bit like you were never going to approach me again.”

The restaurant Lexa had reserved was of course, the hub of all wealthy executives and officials. It was deep in the West end, as Clarke noted, Lexa was probably hoping to avoid any excess chaos with her beloved Ontari in town.

It was modern, it was chic, it was bustling with Lexa’s people.

But it was no _La Montagne_.

“What uh…what did she tell you, anyway?” Clarke remembered that she had to be a lady and open the door for Niylah, as she did so with haste.

Niylah looked cool and beautiful as always, her blonde her in an elegant ponytail, and she received smiles from just about everyone as they made their way into the restaurant. “She said something about staying away from you…because she needed you focused, or something…” she shrugged.

The only person who was received even more lovingly was Lexa herself.

Lexa was mingling towards the back, champagne in hand as she spoke professionally to Nia, Ontari at her hip. Light music swelled in the air around her, and the champagne sparkled in her hand, like the way her eyes did when she found Clarke’s gaze.

She looked absolutely radiant. And a bit deadly, with a low cut black dress that revealed toned, bronzed sides.

She did find Clarke’s gaze, but there was no sparkle. There was no smile. There was only heat. Heat, and a little bit of leftover anger.

Plenty of attraction, though.

Her eyes narrowed when Niylah took Clarke’s hand in hers, and Clarke felt a bit disoriented.

“Oh, there’s Ontari Queen.” Niylah murmured into Clarke’s ear, while she leaned forward. Lexa’s gaze hardened, at that.

“I hear she plots to rip the company out from Lexa’s feet. She and that…mother of hers.” Niylah’s whispers surprised Clarke.

“Where did you hear that?” Clarke inquired gently.

“You’d be surprised at what people admit to when they’re drunk.” Niylah’s response was cool and reserved, just like she was. “We should probably go up and greet them.”

“What? No.” Clarke shook her head, resisting Niylah’s gentle tugging. “I see them enough at work.”

Niylah smirked. “I will make it worth your while, Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke felt her heart rate speed up suddenly, mouth dry. It felt wrong, but so…necessary. So right.

“Lead the way.” Clarke mumbled, and Niylah took the lead.

Ontari had taken the liberty of putting a wandering hand on Lexa’s lower back, and Clarke tried not to think about it.

She wasn’t even sure why she cared, honestly. If she wanted to stage a coup to overthrow Lexa, so be it. Hell, Clarke was even on board.

At least that way, her people would be safe.

Assuming Ontari ever learned about the militant gang aspect, of course.

“Doctor Griffin.” Ontari smiled, turning to Niylah. Her gaze lingered for a moment, raking Niylah up and down once. “And your beautiful date?” She seemed vaguely surprised.

“This is Niylah.” Clarke smiled, feeling Lexa’s emerald gaze burn her.

The two shook hands and began mingling. Clarke felt a tug on her arm, and turned to see Lexa excusing herself for a moment.

She pulled Clarke into a small corner by a vacant table, her gaze softer than earlier. “Clarke.” She sighed.

“Look, I’m not going to hurt Niylah, okay?” Clarke muttered. “I like her.”

Lexa looked taken aback. “I…wasn’t…” she shook her head. “Fine. I’m happy for you.”

Clarke felt her cheeks flush. “What are we doing, Lexa?”

Lexa glanced down, biting her lip unsurely. “Surviving, I suppose.”

Clarke glanced around the room thoughtfully, her eyes spotting Lincoln up towards the front, likely on guard in case anything went awry. She imagined him able to come in arm and arm with Octavia, free from the Romeo & Juliet-esque situation they found themselves in.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lexa.” She admitted in a whisper.

“Doing what, Clarke?” Lexa murmured, her gaze trailing Clarke’s arm, then her chest, to her face, painted with carefully selected emotions.

“This.” Clark motioned between them. “I don’t know what’s happening, and I don’t know if I can trust you…...You threaten me, you scare me….I threaten you…I worry about you…You defend me….” her voice was deflating, and she sounded as if she were going to cry. Her breath caught in her throat.

To her surprise, Lexa looked the same way, her vibrant green gaze dulled by an ache of an all too familiar pain.

Sometimes she forgot that she and Lexa were so young, barely adults. The burden of other lives weighed on them, Clarke as a doctor, Lexa as the “commander”.

No one ever needed to bear such guilt at such a tender, delicate age. Yet so many had.

Clarke often found herself wondering how she was supposed to bear the weight of the world and the weight of her affections for Lexa when they felt like the same thing.

“Here.” Lexa’s voice was tender and soft as she handed Clarke her champagne glass.

Clarke couldn’t faintly see the outline of Lexa’s very barely noticeable lipstick on the rim of the flute. She eyed it unsurely. “Should I really accept any more drinks from you?”

Lexa looked guilty for a moment before wrapping her hand around Clarke’s own, the flute of champagne carried by both of them, as she tilted it back and drank from the golden liquid.

Clarke’s breath hitched, and Lexa licked her lips at the motion. “If we die, Clarke.” Lexa began, leaving the rest for Clarke. “We die together, by each other’s hand.”

Clarke knew Lexa was telling the truth then, and she allowed the gilded liquid, like bottled rays of sun, to wash and cleanse and warm her insides.

She didn’t know if it was the Moët or Lexa that did that to her, but she was intent on finding out.

She knew that Lexa would be the death of her, but she wasn’t quite sure how.

All she knew was that, for the time being, the two had made a formidable peace, and she needed to offer Lexa something to maintain the armistice she’d just formed.

“We should get back.” Clarke’s voice was recovering from its shaky state, but her heart and mind certainly were not.

* * *

 

“ _Ai Strisis_.” Lincoln’s low voice was a warm welcome to Clarke as she made her way over to him at the bar, giving Niylah a few moments to freshen up. _My little sister._

“Some _Bro_ you are.” Clarke grumbled, feeling the dull pain reside deep in her chest.

“What’s this about?” Lincoln asked, noticing Clarke struggling to get herself onto the high bar chair with her high heels.

“Whoa.” She wobbled a little, and Lincoln chuckled, lifting her as if she were a feather, seating her next to him.

From the corner of her eye, Clarke saw Lexa smile amusedly. She rolled her eyes and motioned for a drink. “Thanks…I haven’t even started drinking.”

Lincoln nodded knowingly. “You trying to forget someone?”

Clarke felt a burning sensation rumble within her. She shrugged. “I’m here with Niylah.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ontari whisper something to Lexa, causing the girl to smile.

Clarke felt something unsavory boil within her.

Lincoln lifted a brow, a smirk on his chiseled bronze features. “Niylah, huh? I’d say that’s a victory.”

“Why doesn’t it feel like one?” Clarke sighed, accepting the glass with haste. “Where’s Anya? I haven’t seen her all day.”

Lincoln glanced around, and then leaned in close, towards Clarke. “She doesn’t like the idea of Nia and Ontari stepping in on Lexa’s territory. She won’t support them.”

Clarke nodded slowly. “So I’ve been hearing. And where were you when Anya decided to use me a human punching bag today?”

Lincoln winced. “ _Yu ste laksen.”_

Clarke shrugged, “I am hurt. Just…. not because of Anya.”

Lincoln glanced at Lexa, opening his mouth to speak, but Clarke cut him off. “I…I’m not entirely sure what you’re up to, Lincoln, but…. you need to be careful. Both of you.”

Lincoln’s eyes widened, and he nearly jumped when Niylah put a hand on Clarke’s arm, coming up from behind.

“Hey there.” She draped herself over Clarke’s shoulder, winking at Lincoln casually. “What’d I miss?”

Lincoln, dumbfounded, couldn’t formulate an answer.

Clarke did. “Oh, nothing. Work gossip.” She lied smoothly, hating how naturally it came to her.

“Oh, well…I can certainly contribute my fair share to that.” Niylah hopped onto the stool beside Clarke and Lincoln, who both perked up. “Who would we like to hear about first?”

“Anya.” Clarke shrugged. “Give me something I can use to fend her off.”

Niylah looked thoughtful. “Anya hasn’t seen anyone since…let’s see.” Niylah smirked. “Lincoln here, if my memory serves correct.”

Clarke spat out her Manhattan, littering the counter with her spit. Lincoln looked away and Niylah patted her back gently.

“What?” Clarke demanded, eyes boring into Lincoln’s. “You? And Anya?”

“It was…complicated?” Lincoln offered with a shake of his head. “Anya’s not as brutal as she seems, Clarke.”

Clarke couldn’t help it. It just seemed hysterical. She threw her head back, laughing deeply. “No fucking way.”

And now, he was sleeping with Octavia, probably. What a small world.

Clarke’s laugh was contagious, and Niylah followed suit. Clarke saw Lexa out of the corner of her peripheral vision, Lexa’s lip curling into a faint, hidden smile when she heard Clarke’s laugh.

That smile was quickly replaced with an uncontrolled frown when Niylah leaned forward to press a kiss to Clarke’s cheek. “So….” She murmured, voice dropping. “Are we going to spend our evening talking about Lincoln’s sex life, or go have our own?”

Clarke blushed heavily, and Lincoln coughed, likely having heard.

Clarke felt her inner self sigh. There was nothing left to be done or seen here. She nodded, and let Niylah thread her fingers with Clarke’s as she hopped off the stool, leading the way out with a brief goodbye to Lincoln.

Clarke felt the white hot gaze between her and Lexa as they moved out of the restaurant’s tension filled walls.

 Lincoln’s words echoed in her mind. _You’re trying to forget someone._

* * *

 

Clarke remembered Lexa through the entire night.

Where Niylah’s lips should’ve burned, they simmered, and Clarke could only think of how Lexa’s would’ve felt right.

Where Niylah’s hands roamed, Clarke imagined Lexa’s long, deft hands.

Where Niylah’s voice became gruff with passion, Clarke imagined Lexa’s low, sultry drawl, the way she would say “Clarke…” Like it was a threat and a warning all at once.

Where Niylah’s arm was draped over Clarke long after, on the billowing white sheets, bodies long chilled with evaporated sweat- Clarke closed her eyes, actively trying to imagine her.

Hell, Clarke even imagined her when she ever so quietly put her clothes on and tiptoed out of Niylah’s house the next morning at six.

* * *

 

Clarke Griffin, for the first time in her short life, decided that she was okay with being late to work.

In fact, she was ecstatic.

She’d just gotten back to her empty, lifeless, art-cluttered apartment, and settled on being spontaneous.

_As if last night wasn’t enough spontaneity._

She decided that there was no way in hell, no sum of money anyone could pay her, to make her face Lexa and Ontari.

And especially not after her…evening with Niylah.

So Clarke opted on hanging out with her best friend, and most trusted ally.

She called Raven around seven-thirty that morning, and grinned immediately upon hearing Raven’s less than chipper voice on the other end of the line.

“Griffin, you are so fucking lucky I’m awake. It’s too damn early.” Raven Reyes was not, ever, a morning person. Not even for Finn. Even after their dramatic breakup.

Even after he started seeing Clarke.

Raven Reyes had the biggest heart, even if she did wear the most callous, uncaring façade.

Clarke used to remember him bringing bagels for everyone on some work days, when Bellamy had gathered them all together.

Raven would throw hers at him and rest her head on the table like a frustrated five-year-old.

Clarke missed Finn’s laughter, the way he’d sidle up beside Clarke and whisper something sweet in her ear.

And just like everything else that was remotely good in her life, she lost him.

Clarke snapped back to reality, focusing on Raven’s voice. “Why does it still sound like you’re pissed?”

Raven huffed into her end of the receiver, and Clarke’s ears were assaulted by the distortion it caused. “Octavia is lying to us.”

Clarke’s heart stopped beating. Oh god, did she know? “Wh….what do you mean by that?”

Raven grunted a response. “I don’t know, actually. I think….I think she’s hiding something.”

Clarke looked down, feeling guilty. What was she to do? She couldn’t tell Raven, in fear that she’d tell Bellamy.

Then it was game over.

Bellamy would murder Lincoln.

Lexa would have Bellamy’s head on a pike before sundown.

Clarke shook the thought, along with her moral obligations. She was no one’s pawn anymore. She was Wanheda, wasn’t she? Time to play her cards right.

“Does Bellamy know?” She tried to sound aloof.

“No!” Raven sounded like she was kicking something out of frustration. Clarke tried not to imagine her leg. “He’s so fucking busy with this new mystery bitch of a client.”

Clarke scrunched her forehead in confusion. “You still don’t know who that is?”

Raven clicked her tongue in annoyance, and Clarke immediately thought of Lexa.

_‘I wonder where she is right now…not with Ontari, right? Lexa wouldn’t…. would she?’_

“I don’t know shit, Clarke. Bell is keeping practically everyone in the dark. Octavia would’ve filled us in, but she’s AWOL….” Raven sighed.

“So…maybe she’s…acquiring some new hobbies?” Clarke tried, and then smacked her own forehead. She sounded like an idiot.

“Okay, do I need to tell you how stupid you sound? Or did you figure it out just now?” Raven snapped, only a little teasingly.

“Well…I was gonna call to say let’s ditch work, since we’re both not too occupied but…” Clarke sighed.

Raven’s voice perked up. Clarke knew this was trouble. With Raven Reyes, it always was. “Wait! Seriously? Griffin, I have an idea.”

“No….” Clarke balked. “Hell no. Raven, we can’t-”

“We’re gonna spy on Octavia!” Raven cheered into the phone. “Come on, she gets to the office soon. You want me to pick you up?”

“No.” Clarke tried, and it was futility once again.

“I’m coming.” Raven’s grin could be heard through the phone as she hung up abruptly.

Clarke needed to formulate a plan. To protect Octavia, for all of their sakes.

 _Quickly_.

* * *

 

“Get in loser.” Raven grinned from the rolled window of her jeep, eyes following Clarke as she made her way out of her (now locked) apartment. “We’re going spying.”

“This is…” Clarke huffed as she heaved herself onto the highly positioned passenger’s seat. “-a blatant violation of Octavia’s trust.”

“What are you, a lawyer?” Raven rolled her eyes, her ponytail swishing behind her as she started the car up again.

“I-”

“No, you’re a doctor. You don’t prevent accidents. You fix them.” Raven smirked proudly at her logic.

“Yeah, you’re an ex mechanic. You’re supposed to, I don’t know- maintain things? Not wreck them? Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if Octavia finds out.”

“And that’s why she won’t.” Raven sighed. “Come on, Griff. I’m worried about our girl. This is Octavia we’re talking about here. She doesn’t keep secrets from us…” she motioned to the small space between herself and Clarke. “We’re her home girls. We’re her ride or die-”

“Enough! Enough, I get it.” It was Clarke’s turn to roll her eyes. “Where is our ‘home girl’ headed to?”

Raven smirked, flipping on her sunglasses. “She’s going to leave work at eight thirty, sharp. She has been, for a few days. I don’t know where she goes, but….we’re gonna tail her.”

Clarke couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that racked her body. “Are you serious? What are we, spies? She’ll see this tank of a jeep from miles away.”

Raven shook her head. “You think I haven’t done this before?”

Clarke’s jaw dropped. “You have?”

Raven looked proud, and mildly uncomfortable sharing the information with Clarke. “Mhmm. Bellamy’s had me tail potential…traitors. Just shake em up a bit so they know not to fuck with us.”

“Christ.” Clarke closed her eyes, shaking her head. “What else don’t I know?”

Raven shrugged, turning up the radio, which was clearly in the middle of an awful pop song that Raven no doubt would’ve hated, had she actually been listening. “Ignorance is bliss, right?”

Clarke laughed bitterly. “God, I must be in heaven.”

* * *

 

Raven was so busy trying to follow Octavia’s figure, moving into the small, inconspicuous diner off to the side of the busy main street, that she missed Clarke firing off a rapid, fierce text to a contact named ‘Big bro’.

Clarke simply wrote: _Get out now. Back door if possible._

There was no immediate response.

“Ugh!” Raven took off her seatbelt, slamming her hand on the dashboard. “All this for breakfast? No fucking way.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Raven, what are you doing? You can’t go in there. She’ll see you.”

Raven bit her lip unsurely. “What’s she doing in there, Clarke? That’s not even her style- I mean, for fuck’s sake, she eats designer meals and follows trendy fad diets.”

“Maybe…Bellamy sent her here on business?” Clarke tried. “Sure, it looks a little seedy but…A lot of important people meet here, to be low key and off the radar.”

Raven frowned. “Bellamy would never send Octavia to a seedy bar without me. Or Murphy…”

Clarke held her breath. Raven was determined.

“You don’t think she’s….” Raven trailed off. “Seeing _him_ , do you?”

“I uh…” Clarke’s heart began to beat faster and more determinedly than before. “Who…?”

“Murphy!” Raven hissed, slamming the door. “Is that why she hasn’t been telling us? Because she’s been screwing John fucking Murphy?”

Clarke’s eyes widened, and she grabbed Raven’s arm, but Raven shook her off. “Raven, I really don’t think-”

“Clarke.” Raven stopped dead in her tracks. “Are you with me? Or not?”

Clarke paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. What was she to do?

“Always, Rae.” Clarke sighed, feeling a terribly deprecating feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Raven nodded with a small smile, and then crossed over the pavement, flinging the doors open with a vengeance.

Clarke readied herself for the eruption.

She opened her eyes to see the diner was completely vacant, both front and back doors closed, save for a few elderly couples and a family of five.

“What the…” Raven’s face was pure confusion. “Didn’t she just….But you saw….”

“Maybe we lost her.” Clarke shrugged, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We got carried away.”

“I guess.” Raven nodded slowly, still looking entirely disappointed and yet relieved all at once. “Well…honestly, this is better than finding her playing tongue hockey with Murphy in one of those booths…”

“Right…Well, now that we’re here….” Clarke sighed, tugging Raven’s arm. “Be my date?”

Raven couldn’t help the smile that crossed her features. “Yeah, Griff. I’ll get some waffles with you.”

Clarke smiled sweetly at her, trying not to eye the two cars that were peeling away from the back parking lot.

* * *

 

Raven had dropped Clarke off a few blocks away from her work, and she’d been forced to walk to Lexa’s building, in an attempt to maintain her already exposed cover.

How confusing everything was turning out to be.

Clarke had barely made it up to set her things down at the office before she received a scalding complaint.

“You’re late, Doctor Griffin.” That voice.

Not Lexa.

Not Anya.

Ontari.

The brunette was poking her head into Clarke’s office, looking very much like Lexa in her business attire.

Clarke resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Now she had two Lexa’s to deal with. One pure evil and one… never mind.

“Traffic.” Clarke shrugged, flipping her blonde curls over her shoulder casually. She didn’t answer to Ontari.

“You’re…” Ontari glanced at her Rolex. “Two hours late?”

Clarke decided to play along, just to insult her. “Oh….Am I? Time really flies, doesn’t it?” The edge in her voice was bitter.

Lexa had emerged from Anya’s conjoined office, and she froze in place, eyeing the two carefully. “Good morning, Doctor Griffin.”

“Ms. Woods.” Clarke nodded, trying desperately to focus on her paperwork.

“I was just telling Doctor Griffin here about the value of punctuality. You know, the benefits of being…well, _not two hours late_ to your job.” Ontari pressed, her voice saccharine and poison all at once.

Lexa glanced at Clarke steadily, and then to Ontari. “I’m sure the doctor appreciates your advice.” Her voice was hard, leaving no room for further commentary from either individual.

Anya then stepped out into the room, phone in hand, clearly on hold. “Lexa, I think I have something for Clarke’s-” She froze when she saw Ontari, and the Clarke, who’s eyes widened at the mention of her name.

“Nice of you to show up, doctor.” Anya rolled her eyes, and then quickly retreated into her office, closing the door behind her.

Clarke stood, completely ignoring Ontari and Anya’s jab. She wanted to know what that phone call was about. She eyed Lexa, and just as she was about to say something, the little she-devil joined in first.

“Lexa, we have a meeting with my mother.” Ontari reminded hurriedly.

Lexa straightened her posture, gazing into Clarke’s blue, curious gaze. She nodded then, turning away.

“I’ll be in touch, Doctor Griffin.” Her words were empty promises as the two retreated, shoulder to shoulder, and Clarke realized what a mess she’d gotten herself into.

She tried listening in to Anya’s conversation, to no avail. She’d likely hung up after seeing Clarke had finally bothered to come in.

* * *

 

Clarke waited for hours upon hours for Lexa’s meetings to end, and she watched with great contempt as Ontari practically draped herself all over Lexa to “get a better look at the files” or some such bullshit.

Clarke wasn’t buying it, and she sure as hell hoped Lexa knew what she was doing.

And then the time finally came. Clarke was scribbling into her sketch pad when she saw Ontari grab her bag and bid Lexa a good evening.

Clarke had never been happier to see the brunette leave, as she offered Clarke a cold, fake smile as she passed her office on her way down. Clarke didn’t even bother to roll her eyes as she got up, straightened herself out, and made her way to Lexa’s office, knocking on the door.

She knocked once, twice, and on the third time, unexpectedly, the door swung open and Clarke knocked directly onto Lexa’s chest, who immediately blushed at the contact.

Clarke gasped, stepping back. “I’m so sorry!” She covered her mouth with the hand wasn’t holding her bag. “I thought you were sitting, and I….” She trailed off when she noticed what Lexa was wearing. She had jeans on, and a thick leather jacket, buttoned to the neck. Her hair was in a lazily elegant bun.

“Clarke?” Lexa raised a brow, snapping her out of her not so appropriate daydream. “You were late today.”

“Oh, you noticed?” Clarke mumbled, rolling her eyes.

Lexa looked tense. "Did Niylah hold you up?" She swallowed nervously, and Clarke felt a rush of insecurity. Lexa did care about her personal affairs, didn't she?

“It wasn’t a huge deal, I just-”

“Clarke.” Lexa cut off her rambling. “I'm sorry. That was out of line. It’s fine…just, don’t make a habit of it...being late, I mean. Ontari likes to assume she already owns the company.” Lexa rolled her eyes, and Clarke felt a pang of guilt.

Did Lexa want Ontari to have everything her family had built?

“I was actually just leaving.” Lexa spoke apologetically. “You’re here kind of late.”

“I was waiting for you.” Clarke admitted, feeling somewhat shy all of the sudden. What was this, the third grade?

“Oh.” Lexa’s tone was indicative of gentle surprise, and Clarke wondered why. “Well…can I walk you down, then?”

Clarke nodded slowly, trying to come up with a response. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

The two began walking side by side, and Clarke tried not to feel so warm inside. She hated how Lexa did this to her, and she was never sure why it happened. She tried not to think about it.

“So, you were saying?” Lexa’s voice was a soft hum, all business and yet a little softness in there when she and Clarke were alone.

Clarke adored those moments.

“I wanted to give you this…” Clarke reached into her bag, producing a small folder.

Lexa glanced at her questioningly, and then opened the cover. And then she smiled amusedly.

“Is my being a traitor to my own people that hilarious to you?” Clarke grumbled.

“No, but this….detailed sketch…of Ontari getting struck by lightning is quite…comical.” Lexa smirked, and Clarke snatched the small post it from the top of the page.

“Oh, shit.” Clarke mumbled. “I forgot I did that earlier.”

Lexa’s emerald eyes twinkled with amusement, and Clarke wished she could live in those lush, vibrant gardens of Eden.

“Um, actually…” Clarke motioned to the folder. “I had lunch with…a friend, today. I learned about a few more of Bellamy’s moves…shipments, that sort of thing. They’re detailed in there. I wrote them down during my break.”

Lexa nodded sagely, her smile fading. “Thank you, Clarke. I promise to make short work of this, and I promise to do it cleanly. Nothing will go wrong.”

“I have…a question.” Clarke began gently. “When Anya came into the room, she mentioned me. I heard it. What was she talking about, Lexa?”

Lexa’s gaze flicked towards the ceiling, and she took a deep breath and blinked before reconnecting her eye contact with Clarke’s. “It was…nothing serious. I asked Anya for a favor.”

“If it’s about my people…I need to know.” Clarke defended. “I’m doing everything you asked. Please, don’t hurt them.”

Lexa’s gaze softened suddenly. “No, Clarke…it’s not like that at all. It’s…Listen.” She sighed, turning to face Clarke. “Do you trust me?”

Clarke blinked. “Not particularly.” She admitted, and she swore she saw Lexa’s gaze fall.

“Well, then…” Lexa sighed. “I swear by my own people’s lives, that it’s not about your people, or harming them. Can you understand that?”

Clarke’s shoulders sagged a little, and she nodded. She followed Lexa out to the front of the building, getting prepared for an awkward goodbye.

Except Clarke was rewarded with something much cooler.

Lexa Woods rode a fucking motorcycle. There it was, parked off to the side. Black, with a biohazard symbol adorning the side.

And suddenly Lexa’s wardrobe made sense. “That’s why you’re dressed like a stud…” Clarke mumbled aloud, covering her mouth yet again.

“I’m what?” Lexa turned in confusion, grabbing her helmet.

“Is that…yours?” Clarke asked unsurely.

“No, Clarke, I killed a man and decided to give it a paint job.” Lexa replied, stuffing the folder into a backpack Clarke didn’t even know she had.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. Is that…safe, though?” Concern rang through her voice.

Lexa glanced up at her with a faint smile. “Depends who’s driving.”

Clarke rubbed her arm, feeling uneasy. “Okay, well…I…should probably get going, it’ll be dark soon.”

Lexa sighed, leaning against the bike with her arms crossed. “Come on.” She motioned with her hand.

Clarke looked uncertain. “You mean….?”

“Yes, Clarke.”

“But I thought-”

“Clarke. Trust me, at least, on _thi_ s.” Lexa’s voice was laced with amusement and proposition.

Lexa produced a black helmet from behind her, tossing it to Clarke.

Clarke caught it and then glanced down. “What about you?” she asked gently.

“I’ll be alright, Clarke. Thank you for your concern.” She responded casually.

“Lexa, I can’t let you do this.” Clarke argued.

Lexa turned to Clarke, elegant wavy locks from her bun adorning her cheeks. “Clarke.” She took a step forward, very close to Clarke’s face. Clarke felt her breath hitch. “What is it I do for a living?”

Clarke glanced down, seeing Lexa’s knife in its usual sheath around her waist. “Very dangerous things.” She mumbled.

“Right.” Lexa breathed. “I think I’ll be okay riding without a helmet, Clarke. Besides, I have you. How fast do you think I’ll be going?”

Clarke nodded, feeling very distant from Lexa as she bore the helmet, admiring it’s matching design.

Lexa stood beside Clarke, a gentle hand sliding over her thigh as she helped Clarke board the bike.

Clarke suddenly felt very hot. Not because of the rapidly chilling weather, either. Her thighs clenched a lot more when she felt Lexa get on in front of her, and suddenly she was pressed against Lexa’s backside, and all her daydreams were coming true.

And she swore she saw the beginning of a tattoo for a split second on Lexa’s neck, right before her jacket collar covered it once more.

Clarke was so attracted that she was pretty sure Lexa could _feel_ it.

“Okay, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was steady. “Put your arms around me, and don’t let go.”

Clarke’s heart hammering, she did as she was told. She had no trouble following that directive.

Lexa could command her all she wanted _like that._

She found a warm nook in Lexa’s shoulder and settled in with a content sigh, forgetting that they were two clashing, cataclysmic forces in what was going to become a full on war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this chapter- it's extremely necessary to set up the DRAMATIC events of the coming ones (which I'm currently in the process of finishing-it's crazy). Thanks for enduring ;)
> 
> I think it's best that we limit the updates to once a week (Sunday mornings), with less dense chapters- that typically seems to help stories grow more in terms of audience.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading/leaving kudos. If you liked it/have any critiques or burning ideas, I'm all ears: Leave me a comment, and I'll be sure to reply when I can! 
> 
> (Story Tumblr: Effortlessly-Opulent)


	9. My People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gets into a bad situation on her quest for answers. Nothing is quite the same after this.

One month.

One entire month had passed since Clarke felt the contours of Lexa’s body, pressed against her back as they rode her motorcycle through the streets of the capitol. One month since she’d been close enough to smell Lexa’s faint perfume, or seen the hint of a tattoo on the back of her neck.

She hadn’t been able to see more of Lexa since. She’d never been this scarcely available, in the nearly half a year that Clarke had been made aware of her presence.

Lexa was running around all day, every day, Ontari in tow. Clarke wondered if she’d been busy with corporate actions or gang actions.

She never even had the spare minute to ask, anymore.

Anya was shrouded in secrecy, making phone calls left and right. And Clarke? Clarke was busy doing nothing, it seemed.

But she had to admit, Lexa Woods knew how to get shit done. Efficiently, neatly, as if she and her people were never there.

Though sometimes, Clarke felt as if she wasn’t there, either. Lexa didn’t even have time to bestow upon her a passing smile, or absent gaze like she used to.

But oh, she had all the time in the world for Ontari. Of course, they were getting closer. Clarke could see the lust in Ontari’s eyes, and though Lexa wasn’t the main goal, why not have a little fun?

Clarke seethed at her own thoughts, the way they consumed her.

The most frustrating part: She wasn’t even sure why she cared. She didn’t know why she felt annoyance whenever Ontari put a well-manicured hand on her boss, or whenever they would whisper something to each other under their breath.

She couldn’t make sense of anything anymore. She had strange, awfully consuming feelings that simmered and boiled in the pit of her stomach, and she couldn’t control them at all.

So she buried herself in her family, her _true_ family, as she reminded herself. She’d never heard more from Lincoln than a mere: “Thank you, Clarke. I owe you.”

Her reply? “Don’t tell me about it…I don’t want to know. Just…don’t let it happen again, Lincoln. You’re playing with fire, and I’m not talking about Raven…I’m talking about Bellamy…or worse…Lexa.”

That was that. Lincoln even tried to have a conversation with Clarke about it, but she told him to keep it to himself.

It was hard enough, lying to Raven about Lexa. Now, she had to lie about Octavia too?

Clarke’s life was torn to shreds, and the winds of D.C. had all but blown them away.

* * *

 

“I can’t fucking believe…” Bellamy growled, burying a dart deep inside the hole-riddled dartboard that hung on his office wall. The dart flew through the air with dead precision, burying it’s tip right outside of the red bullseye.

His tie was loose around his neck, his hair in wild form. He looked feral, and very tired.

“Bell you’re going to crack the board.” Octavia’s voice seemed far off, like it had for the past month or so, completely out of character. She was gazing out the window, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Raven had all but stopped talking to her, accusing her of hiding something. “That wouldn’t be the first time, would it? I’m surprised you noticed, Octavia. These days, the only way to get your attention is to throw something at you.” She rolled her eyes. She spoke from her lazy seat towards the back of the room, feet propped up.

“Shut up Reyes.” Murphy growled, stepping forward to tear the darts from the board and hand them back to Bellamy like a good little lapdog. “Know your place.”

“No, you know what?” Bellamy turned, dropping the darts suddenly. “Reyes is right.”

Raven perked up. “Well, this is gonna be interesting.”

Octavia whipped around, a fire in her eyes. “Yeah? About what, Bellamy?” She puffed herself out, framing herself to be bigger.

“Hey…” Murphy stepped in front of Bellamy protectively.

“Get the fuck out of my way, John!” Octavia practically roared.

Raven watched with a smirk. “O _h, now_ she’s paying attention.”

“Are you guys kidding me?” Clarke’s voice, high and demanding, echoed in the room. Everyone turned upon her announcement and arrival, seeming to come to ceasefire. “What the hell is happening to this family?”

Bellamy looked down in shame. He was the patriarchal symbol, ergo, responsible. He pressed his lips into a thin line before spitting out. “We lost two more.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “People?” She gasped.

“No!” Bellamy put his hands up. “No…. Shipments. We’re losing ground, too. I haven’t seen anything like this since…. well, a long time.”

Clarke’s heart returned to its rightful place in her chest. “Oh…” She looked down, trying not to sound too relieved. “Well…why?”

She knew damn well why.

Bellamy sighed, falling into his desk chair. “I don’t know.” He admitted.

“So you blame it on _us_?” Octavia snapped, clearly still heated.

“I think there’s a fucking traitor here.” Murphy’s voice had an edge to it, and Clarke tried to look on into his gaze defiantly. “What about Dax, huh? Those Grounders shook him up. Maybe we should too, see what he knows?”

“Dax has been through enough for this…family.” Bellamy replied, shooting Murphy down with a glare. “We don’t turn on our own. Didn’t I make that clear before I let any of you in?”

Raven crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Doesn’t explain where Octavia’s been…”

Bellamy looked up in mild surprise. “Octavia? What do you mean?”

Raven blinked. “You haven’t noticed because of all your shady meetings, have you?”

Octavia’s jaw set, and Clarke thought she resembled Lexa a little when she was this angry. Except…far less controlled, or poised.

Or _attractive_. Clarke shook the thought.

“Yeah, brother.” Octavia’s voice was venomous. “Mind telling us what t _hat’s_ all about?”

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up. She was definitely curious about that.

Bellamy stood. “It’s just business. You know, that thing we do when we’re not off wandering the streets like a lost kid!”

Octavia growled. “Who said that I was?”

Raven coughed a little, her face full of unsaid obscenity.

“You?” Octavia blinked, unable to comprehend anything.

“ENOUGH!” Clarke snapped, cutting them all off. “I came here to help fix the problem, not worsen it!”

Bellamy sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Right. Clarke’s right. We need to…we need to solve this. Get to the root of the problem, and eliminate it.”

 _‘Eliminate me…._ ’ Clarke thought to herself with a dull ache.

“Clarke, what can you tell us?” Bellamy looked to her expectantly. “I hear you’ve got Woods wrapped around your finger…that true?”

Clarke took a breath and then nodded slowly, reciting what Lexa had told her. “I’m…seeing her. Trying to get her to let me in….”

Bellamy smirked. “Good, this is good.”

“How long is that gonna take, princess?” Murphy sneered. “We’re kind of on a tight schedule, and it’s been months since we sent your blonde ass in there.”

“Fucking her isn’t the same as winning her affections, Murph. Not that you’d know the difference.” Octavia snapped in Clarke’s defense.

Clarke glanced at her thankfully. “I…it’s hard.”

“Maybe she’s losing interest.” Murphy shrugged.

“She’s not.” Clarke retorted a little too quickly. “I’m working on it. I promise.”

“I know it can be scary…going out with her Clarke. I know that you’re worried…” Bellamy rose, coming over to put a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “But all you have to do is tell us where you’ll be, and I’ll have scouts there. People to protect you, in case something goes wrong. She’s dangerous, but…you’re not alone, Clarke.” Bellamy offered her a little smile.

“Say the word and I’ll bust a cap in her ass.” Raven grinned, and Clarke was forced to reciprocate the action.

This was bad.

They were falling apart, and they wanted answers.

Clarke needed to give them something.

She said her goodbyes and left in a hurry for work, with her fake job and fake relationships and fake sense of safety and comradery.

She never heard Bellamy mutter to Murphy. “I think you’re right. Something’s off here. I want you to call _him_ in.”

She was lucky that they trusted her with their lives, else Clarke Griffin would’ve been dead in a ditch a long time ago.

* * *

 

Clarke arrived to Lexa’s office by just about six, out of breath and feeling less and less like trying. Her blonde hair was tied back and her cheeks were flushed as she took in a breath of air, leaning against Lexa’s open office door.

She’d missed her, likely by a few minutes. She poked her head into Anya’s office, cursing her luck when she found the lights were off.

“Shit.” Clarke grumbled, turning around dejectedly. She didn’t know why it felt so urgent, but she needed to tell Lexa that Bellamy was onto her, and pissed.

Lexa needed the warning, and Clarke wasn’t one to take chances.

And now Lexa was gone, probably with Ontari, having a fancy dinner in their stupid fancy clothes and their-

“Sis.” Lincoln stepped out from an office into the hallway where Clarke was catching her breath. “ _Sochu_?”

“Don’t ‘sis’ me.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “We’ve been avoiding each other for good reason.”

Lincoln sighed, putting his hands up in a way that made his leather jacket tighten around his stone like arms. “We should really talk about Oc-”

“Uh!” Clarke put a hand up like she’d seen Lexa do when she was particularly annoyed, bringing the flow of the conversation to  a halt. “Don’t even go there. I don’t know anything, got it?”

Lincoln sighed. “Yeah…why are you here? You got off hours ago, I saw you leave.”

Clarke leaned back against the wall. “ _Family_ emergency.”

Lincoln’s jaw dropped. “What? Why? Is _she_ okay, Clarke?”

Clarke glanced up in annoyance. “ _She’s_ fine. Stop with that lovesick worrying, it’s gross. This isn’t about _her_.” Clarke refused to even mention Octavia’s name. “I need _Lex_ a. But she’s gone.” She sighed dejectedly. “I missed her.”

Lincoln nodded. “Well…you’ll need a ride then. Shall we?”

“Wait. You know where she is?” Clarke perked up, and Lincoln offered up a wry smile.

“I do. I’m kind of in her inner circle, remember?” He teased.

“Where is she? Is Ontari there?” Clarke blurted out.

Lincoln frowned. “Ontari? No? What? Oh…” he gave Clarke an amused grin. “ _Nou get yu daun_ , _Klark_.”

“I’m not worried…” Clarke scoffed. “It’s just…This is sensitive information. She can’t hear.”

“I’m sure that’s why you don’t like Ontari.” Lincoln smirked. “Because she’s invading your… _sensitive information_ time with _Heda_.”

“I….like her just fine.” Clarke was a terrible liar, ironically. “She’s…sweet.”

“She’s kind of a bitch.” Lincoln commented as he fished his keys out of his pocket.

“She’s a major bitch.” Clarke muttered in agreement as they made for Lincoln’s car.

 

* * *

 

“Lincoln, this is shady.” Clarke muttered, face pressed against the glass of his car window as they rolled in on darker, unkempt streets of the Grounder territory.

Shadows moved in the dark, few people walked on the cold, chilling streets. Streetlamps flickered, and distant cars could be heard.

“Clarke.” Lincoln sighed, shaking his head. “Have you seen these?” He used a free hand to flex his bicep playfully. “You’re safe.”

Clarke didn’t feel much safer. It must’ve shown, because Lincoln turned to face her for a moment, adding for assurance, “Besides- see that gym over there?” He motioned to the small, beat up building across the street.

“Yeah?” Clarke nodded, noticing the lights were on, but the windows were tinted to reflect the outside rather than the inner rooms.

“Lexa is in there right now, with Anya.” Lincoln replied as he turned off the engine, stepping outside.

For some reason, that made Clarke feel safe. Just knowing that Lexa was in the vicinity. Even if Anya wanted her head on a pike.

She stuck close to Lincoln as the two made their way over, crossing the dark black asphalt road, leaving behind the safety and anonymity of Lincoln’s SUV.

* * *

 

The gym was empty. No one else, save for Lexa and Anya, was there.

And some gym it was.

The main floor was padded, all equipment and machines moved to the far corners outside of the main walkway and mat area.

Clarke quickly understood why.

On the center of the matt, Lexa and Anya were both fighting.

Sparring might have been the correct term, but to Clarke, it didn’t look like any punches were being held back.

Clarke’s jaw dropped when she witnessed the glory of it all, like two goddesses of ancient legend battling for some epic cause.

Both were in tank tops, hair tied back in neat, tight ponytails. They were both dripping with sweat, looking like chiseled sculptures come to life.

Lexa’s arms, Clarke noticed, bore intricate, beautiful tattoos that hugged muscular, tight arms. Her tank top clung to her body, shaping the contour of her athletic build, and her legs were in black, tight leggings.

Lincoln teasingly leaned over and pushed Clarke’s jaw back up gently, upon which Clarke felt her cheeks turn hot. She was staring, but how could she help it?

Lexa looked dangerous, lethal, in black gear that made her look like a predatory panther that Clarke wished would maul her.

Anya had some sort of stick, or staff in her hands, and she was making an incredible effort to strike Lexa, who’d been patiently dodging with no weapon of her own.

Clarke had never seen someone move with such focus, grace and fluidity. She moved every part of her body as if she were made of liquid, there one minute, gone in the next.

Clarke gasped when Anya’s staff nearly grazed Lexa’s face.

At the sudden interruption, Lexa turned to see Clarke, and she froze, and Anya took cruel advantage to sweep Lexa’s feet, sending her crashing to the ground.

Lexa never fell completely, springing up from her momentum before Anya could even respond.

“ _Hod op_!” Lexa’s command was clear and Anya nodded, taking a breath as she stepped back, giving Lexa space.

“Come on Anya.” Lincoln moved respectfully past Lexa. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Anya glanced at Clarke, then at Lincoln, and nodded once.

The two gave Clarke and Lexa space, and Clarke suddenly felt as if the room was ten or eleven times bigger.

“Clarke.” Lexa turned around, panting. Blood oozed from a small cut on her forehead, and Clarke couldn’t help her medical instincts that kicked in.

“Lexa…” Clarke breathed, looking around for anything. She found a clean towel, likely Lexa’s, hanging off to the side on a railing. She picked it up and approached Lexa slowly, motioning to her forehead. “You’re hurt…”

“ _Chit nou frag yu op na teik yu ste mou yuj.”_ Lexa’s reply was solemn, but she motioned for Clarke to sit beside her on one of the steps outside the front door. Clarke followed suit, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. _What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger._

“Could you _be_ any stronger?” Clarke’s reply came as she gently began to tend to Lexa’s wound.

Lexa smiled gently under her touch, before looking onward, into the black abyss of the street. “Why are you here, Clarke?”

Clarke feigned hurt. “What, you don’t miss me?”

Lexa looked taken aback by the question. “Well, I…” She was hiding something.

Clarke shook her head, smiling amusedly. “I’m kidding.”

Lexa took a breath, and Clarke felt her heartrate spike at the sound of her soft, tired voice. “I have not had the chance to speak with you in a while.” It was like she wanted to tell Clarke more, but bit her tongue every time.

“Ontari’s important. I get it.” Clarke responded, looking away. She felt Lexa evade her gaze as well. “We don’t have any reason to be seeing each other that much normally, anyway.” Clarke allowed her pragmatism to distance herself from her boss.

“Normally?” Lexa picked up observantly. “Is something wrong, Clarke?” She avoided Clarke’s mention of Ontari quite naturally.

“I was with Bellamy today.” Clarke felt Lexa stiffen under her careful hand. “Things…aren’t going well there. Tensions are high, to say the least.”

“I can imagine.” Lexa smirked, and Clarke felt awful inside.

“They’re my family, you know.” Clarke sighed. “It’s…so hard, to watch them fall apart like this. Because of me. It’s my fault.”

Lexa shook her head. “Fault is a term we use when we’ve done something wrong. You’ve been doing the _right_ thing, Clarke.”

“Why doesn’t it feel like that?” Clarke challenged, her voice rising in pitch. She couldn’t help the way emotions poured out of her like the sweat that had beaded Lexa’s forehead in her workout, like the ichor of the gods themselves.  

Lexa glanced into her blue gaze thoughtfully. “When have you ever done what you thought was necessary, and came out on the other side feeling good about yourself?”

Clarke bit her lip. She hated Lexa so much. She was always right.

“What is the issue, Clarke? I can see it in your eyes…there’s more. Tell me.” Lexa pressed.

Clarke didn’t need to be asked twice. She gazed hesitantly at Lexa’s lips. “They…they know something’s wrong, Lexa. They’ve been losing territory and ground left and right. I need to give them something on you.”

Lexa blinked. “So _lie._ ”

Clarke felt her heart sink. “They’ll know, Lexa. They’re onto me. They’ll…kill me, and then kill themselves.”

Lexa sighed, biting her lip. “You know I wouldn’t let that happen to you Clarke…”

Clarke looked up, blinking in surprise. “You wouldn’t?”

“-I protect my people.” Lexa added, and Clarke felt the surprise wear off.

“But I’d deserve it.” Clarke argued. “They think I’m really getting to you…I mean, Bellamy offered to put guards on our next date, in case you….”

“Next _date_?” Lexa queried with the ghost of an amused smile.

“Yeah…” Clarke sighed, rubbing her neck awkwardly. “You told me to tell them-”

“I know what I said, Clarke.” Lexa responded gently.

Clarke didn’t know if she could take a fake date with Lexa, especially due to the traumatic events that their last so called “date” had resulted in.

She knew things were different, but her heart ached for Lexa differently. She didn’t want to tempt it, just to have it fall, spiraling into another period of prolonged aching and depression.

Clarke glanced down, subconsciously tracing the intricate tattoo pattern on Lexa’s arm, realizing what she’d done when she saw Lexa’s arm break out in chills.

She didn’t move her hand.

She glanced up, into her eyes, murmuring, “I didn’t know you had these…they’re beautiful.”

Lexa’s answer was low, breathy, as she leaned into Clarke. “There are a lot of aspects of who we are, that we have to hide…even guard, in order to please others…. In order to survive, and portray an image…”

Clarke’s heart hurt for Lexa. She didn’t understand why, or how, but she knew in that moment that Lexa was talking about a lot more than tattoos.

She wanted to kiss every inch of her, as if her lips were holy pardons to her unuttered sins.

“These are symbols my family has known for generations…” Lexa breathed, eyeing Clarke’s lips. She inched closer, and Clarke felt her heart burst in her chest, the beating likely louder than she could’ve imagined. “They tell more about who I am than I ever could…”

“Maybe you don’t have to hide them from everyone…” Clarke murmured. “Maybe… I could be that…per-” she was centimeters away from tasting Lexa’s delicate lips, her amused smiles and snarky remarks. Her poetry and her anger, her commands and her moments of intimacy.

And then Anya pushed the door open behind them, causing them both to jump a full two feet apart.

“ _Heda_.” She narrowed her eyes at Clarke, like a father who’d just caught his daughter kissing someone on the front porch. “The night air is cold. It will stiffen your muscles, and we aren’t halfway through, yet.”

Lexa nodded, rising. She offered her muscled arm to Clarke, and easily pulled her up as well. “Thank you for tending to my wounds, _doctor_.”

“But…you still haven’t given me anything…” Clarke sighed. “What do I say?”

Lexa eyed her wearily. “Whatever you have to, to keep their trust. Don’t lose _ours_.”

Lincoln took Clarke home without another word, and Clarke wasn’t able to get even a minute of sleep.

She needed to give Bellamy something, anything, that wouldn’t endanger the Grounders, but would satisfy the question of all the sudden losses.

Clarke needed a scapegoat.

* * *

 

“That seems…lucrative.” Ontari’s giggle from Lexa’s office, perhaps the fifth one this morning, was about to push Clarke into a frenzy. She never heard a reaction from Lexa, but she imagined plenty on her own.

It was the definition of torture.

Apparently, it seemed Anya shared the sentiment.

Anya had just walked into Clarke’s office with a stack of files in hand, dumping them on Clarke’s desk. She mimicked Ontari’s sprite-like laugh, “ _Hahaha…”_ she threw her hands in the air comically. “I wonder how much longer Lexa is going to put up with her shit…without at least sleeping with her.” Anya smirked at that last part.

Clarke bit her tongue, scowling. “You don’t think that Lexa would actually give up the company…Do you?”

Anya looked thoughtful. “Not our place to say. I trust that Lexa knows what she’s doing.”

Clarke resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So like Anya to never give a satisfying answer. “Well…I need to see Lexa.”

Anya shook her head. “Too bad. Her schedule is packed today; she doesn’t have time.”

Clarke knew it. She’d issued an order to purposely keep Clarke away. Why?

“She’d make an exception for me.” Clarke pressed.

Anya raised a brow. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Clarke’s cheeks flushed. So Anya called her bluff. This was awkward. She didn’t actually have a good reason.

_Because she felt a strange, hateful yet passionate romantic connection with her?_

No, that wouldn’t be sufficient, would it?

“I just…it’s an emergency.” Clarke replied stiffly.

“Look, I heard what Lexa told you back at the gym.” Anya sighed in annoyance. “She told you to make something up, that won’t get your little blonde ass killed. Why is this so difficult for you to comprehend?”

Clarke shook her head. “It’s not that simple. If Bellamy finds out I’m lying, everything goes to hell. Shouldn’t she have a hand in this?”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Clarke. She’s not seeing you today, tomorrow, or as long as Ontari is here. Got it?”

Clarke’s heart deflated. She nodded slowly. She had to circumvent Anya. No problem.

So Clarke waited, patiently. She waited until she was sure Anya was buried into the mysterious phone calls that she took nearly every day, which Clarke still hadn’t figured out the purpose of.

But that was another mystery, for another time.

After nearly half an hour or so, Clarke tip toed out of her seat, carefully approaching Lexa’s now closed door.

She didn’t bother knocking, instead decided on slipping in slowly. She needed to see Lexa. This was important, wasn’t it?

What she saw _was_ Lexa, but it was also Ontari.

More specifically, Ontari pushing Lexa back against her own desk, their lips entangled in some furious show of dominance.

Clarke had thought she’d been making headway with Lexa, truly. She thought their conversation had meant something.

Didn’t it?

“This is so fucking messed up…” Clarke couldn’t help the edge and acidic tone that bore through her already harsh words.

Lexa and Ontari jumped apart at the sound of the voice, and Clarke stood there, arms crossed in an effort to hide how she was shaking with anger, betrayal, even.

She didn’t know why she cared. It killed her. Every fiber of her being wanted to kick Ontari out the semi open office window and even shove Lexa with her too.

Not for Bellamy, anymore.

Not for Octavia, Raven, Murphy, Monty….

For Clarke.

For herself. Because she was done being wounded, desperate, and helpless.

“Clarke…Uh, Doctor Griffin.” Lexa’s first response was shock.

“Why is _she_ here?” Ontari pressed, asserting that Lexa should have kicked her out the minute she intruded.

“Did they teach you that in _business school_ too?” Clarke shot at her, smirking. She was trying so desperately to hide any pain she felt.

How idiotic she’d look, if she cried like she wanted to.

If she looked like she gave a shit about Lexa or what she did, rather, _who_ she did, in her spare time.

“Or is that part of a _professionalism seminar_ you attended?” Clarke guessed wryly.

“Ever learn to knock, Doctor?” Ontari snapped, straightening her blouse.

“You know what?” Clarke growled. “I just came in here to ask my _boss_ a question. But it seemed like she was busy with…important business.”

Lexa stiffened. “Doctor Griffin, I…” she couldn’t form words.

“No, it’s _fine_.” Clarke mock bowed. “I’ve got it. I’m at your service, whenever you need me.” Her voice was dripping with the venom she was spitting at Lexa, unable to control her rage. “You know what’s worse?” She turned to Ontari, who looked surprised. “I can’t even quit!” She laughed loudly, bitterly.

Lexa’s eyes hardened as she clenched her jaw. “ _Clarke_.” It was a very distinct warning.

“What the hell is- Oh, my god.” Anya’s voice sounded from behind Clarke, and she suddenly felt Anya’s hand gently guiding Clarke away. “This is my fault; I should’ve been paying attention…. Ms. Woods…. ah, Ms. Queen…. Please, excuse us.”

Clarke knew Ontari’s presence was the only thing keeping her from being beaten down by Anya. Ironically, it was the reason she was yelling.

What a _paradoxical_ little situation.

Anya shut the door behind her and turned to likely berate Clarke, but she was already making her way down the hall and towards the elevator.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Anya demanded.

“Getting answers.” Clarke replied coolly.

Before Anya could answer, Clarke was already into a closing elevator, descending rapidly.

In the main lobby, Clarke spotted Lincoln, walking out to his car. Likely for another forbidden tryst, no doubt.

She ran up behind him, grabbing his arm. “Lincoln!” She demanded his attention. “Come on, I need you.”

Lincoln’s face was perplexed. “Clarke? It’s not even your lunch break.”

Clarke tried to hold in all her emotions, schooling her features like she’d seen Lexa do countless times. “Lincoln.” She spoke lowly. “I need you to take me somewhere. Right. Now. Please.”

Lincoln’s eyes clouded with concern. “Clarke…” he trailed off.

“I know where you were about to go.” Clarke warned. “Cancel on her, Lincoln. This is important. Maybe even for her safety.”

Lincoln put his hands on Clarke’s shoulders. “Clarke. You sound crazy. What’s this about?”

“Lincoln. I saved you from Raven. You owe me. Please, just…let’s get to your car. I’ll tell you on the way, okay?”

Lincoln nodded, following Clarke who hurried off to his car, a hurried hustle in every step.

He was so consumed with Clarke’s frenzy that he missed Anya, who’d followed Clarke down, watching with narrowed eyes and an unreadable expression.

“Where are we going, Clarke?” Lincoln sighed as he slid into the driver’s seat, Clarke getting in opposite him.

“Emerson.” Clarke muttered. “I want you to take me to meet him.”

* * *

 

“WHAT?” Lincoln sputtered, nearly slamming the breaks. His gaze was clouded with concern, likely for Clarke’s sanity. “ _Jok,_ Clarke, are you out of your mind?”

Clarke bit her lip. So Emerson was _that_ bad, huh? “Quite possibly. But you owe me.”

“Clarke, Emerson…he doesn’t fuck around. I mean, he’s the next biggest leader of D.C’s 12 gangs. The only person he answers to is Lexa, and only because he fears her. There’s no way in hell I’m taking you over there.”  

Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “Then drop me off. I can handle myself.”

Lincoln’s jaw set, and it reminded Clarke of Lexa in so many ways. “No. You’ll die. What the hell do you want with scum like him anyway?”

Clarke glanced upwards in exasperation. “Answers. I want to know who’s who. Lexa claims she’s one way, Bellamy thinks he’s doing the right thing…. I want the truth. And if I can’t get it out of anyone here, then take me to someone who can help.”

 “Clarke.” Lincoln admonished. “This isn’t right. Lexa should be there…”

“Lexa’s a fucking lying sociopath.” Clarke responded with fervor, her voice cracking. “I don’t know who’s telling the truth anymore. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if someone died because I didn’t know who I was screwing with.”

Lincoln growled in frustration. “Dammit Clarke, I’d tell you if I knew, but sometimes…we just take orders because that’s what duty is.”

“Are you coming, or not?” Clarke demanded suddenly, turning to him in desperation.

“I wouldn’t be much of a friend to you or Octavia if I let you die there, Clarke.” Lincoln muttered as he made for Emerson’s territory.

Clarke remembered how many little red X’s bordered his turf, on the map Lexa had shown Clarke the day she was captured.

 She knew she was stepping into a warzone.

She just didn’t realize what kind.

* * *

 

“His base is a bar?” Clarke sounded skeptical. She and Lincoln had driven for almost half an hour, to the much seedier outskirts of the city.

It reminded Clarke a bit of the gym she’d spoken to Lexa at. Except, a lot less safe.

Because Lexa wasn’t anywhere nearby.

Clarke remembered the seething, the anger she’d felt when she’d stepped into that office.

She didn’t want Lexa around anyway.

“Base?” Lincoln scoffed, making her remember that she’d actually asked a question. “Clarke. They’re gangsters. They just create havoc and break people’s kneecaps when they don’t pay their debts.”

Clarke cringed, biting her lip. She couldn’t afford to be weak, or she’d become another one of Emerson’s casualties.

She took a moment and turned to Lincoln, throwing her arms around him with vigor.

“Whoa!” He stumbled backwards, watching as Clarke pulled away, turning her body back to the bar. “What was that for?”

Clarke shrugged, shuffling her arms around in her jacket unsurely. “I don’t know…just…thank you.”

Lincoln gave her a sad smile. “You won’t be saying that after this, I think.”

She eyed the bar, from what she could tell from the stained windows, it was dimly lit. Music played, but no one was coming in or out. Cars and bikes crowded the parking lot.

Clarke took a breath, steeling her gaze. She had to emulate the woman she hated.

She had to be Lexa.

Lincoln walked beside her, step by step, puffing his shoulders out just like Octavia did when she felt threatened.

Clarke almost thought it was cute. She had to make sure Lincoln got back to her safely, unharmed.

She ignored the knot in her stomach as Lincoln pushed the door open, nodding to a few unwelcoming gazes.

Clarke’s vision immediately darkened at the dim lighting, a smell of alcohol washing over her senses.

For the most part, Emerson’s people were older. They all wore dark, harsh tones and they looked less familial than the grounders.

Niylah’s counterpart, as the bartender, was an old man in a crisp, collared shirt, who didn’t look as if he was supposed to be a barkeep.

“Dante.” Lincoln’s voice was thick. He tried to ignore the stares he got. A few people from the bar, a few from the billiards table.

“Grounder.” Dante nodded, and everyone resumed what they were doing. “We already paid our share for the month.”

Clarke spoke up, finding her voice buried beneath her fears. “We’re looking for Emerson.”

A few heads glanced up, and Dante let out a wry laugh. “You’re certainly not a Grounder.”

Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but the grey haired man was quicker to follow up. “Emerson!” He called out. “Lexa’s people are here.”

Clarke felt Lincoln tense up as she heard heavy boots hit the ground, one after another, coming from the back. A man was approaching them, well built with short, cropped hair. His eyes were darkened, and he wore a wry smile. He picked up a pool stick as he approached, stopping about five feet away from Lincoln and Clarke.

He wore a battered old military styled jacket with his name in the stitching, and Clarke realized that a lot of these people were former servicemen and women. She wondered how they ended up so far from the noble call of duty.

“Is there a problem?” Emerson, presumably, grinned.

Clarke suddenly felt uneasy. She decided to take the lead, as it was her decision to come. “No. No problem. Lexa didn’t send us.”

Emerson quirked a brow. “She didn’t?”

Clarke shook her head, ignoring the incredulous way Lincoln was staring at her. “She doesn’t know we’re here.”

Lincoln coughed a little at that, but said nothing.

“Okay, you have captured my attention.” Emerson clapped his hands together, pointing the poolstick’s end towards Lincoln. “But you…you make me nervous, Grounder. Why don’t you sit over there, right by Dante at the bar, huh?”

Lincoln’s jaw set. “I’m fine right here, thanks.”

Clarke took a step forward, putting her hand on Lincoln’s shoulder. “Go, it’s fine.” She whispered reassuringly. “We’re just here to talk.”

Lincoln grudgingly nodded, moving towards the bar, eyes never leaving Emerson.

“Now…you and I….” He turned to Clarke, licking his lips hungrily. “You have a name, blondie?”

Clarke resisted the urge to say something she’d regret. “Clarke.”

“Clarke…” Emerson drawled, and Clarke didn’t feel the way she did when Lexa did it. That was a different kind of danger. “What brings you to the south side?”

This was life and death.

“Answers.” Clarke kept her chin up. “I want answers.”

“Don’t we all?” Emerson smirked, picking up a bottle of beer and tilting it back.

Clarke eyed him, her throat going dry.

Emerson smirked, taking a step forward. Lincoln made a motion to step forward, off his stool which he so reluctantly occupied, but Emerson held his hand up.

“Here…” Emerson handed Clarke the bottle, like it was a rite of passage. “We’re all friends here.” He looked at Clarke expectantly.

Clarke sighed internally, squeezing her eyes shut and forcing herself to take a swig. It tasted metallic, like Emerson’s cold words. She was disgusted.

“So…” Emerson whistled. “What I’m hearing is that…you want answers about….my boss. With…nothing to offer me?” He eyed Clarke’s body up and down, and Clarke felt dread seep into the pit of her stomach. She needed to regain control.

“I can give you secrets. Information about the Arkers…the Grounders…. product, even.” Clarke’s bluff was high, a hell of a gamble.

She didn’t know how she intended to actually get out of this unscathed. She felt incredibly foolish.

All this reckless behavior, and for what? Lexa wasn’t here to be hurt by it.

Just Clarke. Stupid, stupid Clarke.

Emerson raised a brow. “Hmmm. Intriguing.”

One of his people, from beside Lincoln spoke up. “She’s with Woods. Don’t buy that shit, Emerson.”

Emerson’s face lit up, and a shit eating grin took form on his stubble covered mouth. “Oh-whoa! That true?”

Clarke bit her lip, pulling her jacket tightly around her. This wasn’t going well. “I’m not here for anyone but myself.”

Emerson tsked, taking a step forward. “Well, it just so happens that we were planning a coup on good old “Commander Lexa”. Imagine how much easier that’s gonna be when we have you as a bargaining chip?”

Lincoln stood up, but suddenly found that Emerson’s people were on either side of him, restricting him from moving. He thrashed violently in their grip. “Let her go!” Lincoln demanded.

“Get his gun, will you Dante?” Emerson smirked as the man came around the bar with a sigh, reaching against Lincoln’s sides for his holster.

He frowned. “There isn’t one.”

Emerson barked out a laugh. “You came here unarmed? Even after knowing how I run my business?”

Lincoln’s face contorted to one of confusion, but that rapidly changed when he saw Clarke brandish his pistol, aiming it at Emerson.

Her grip was unprofessional, slightly imbalanced.

Nonetheless, it was a gun with a trigger, and she had a finger.

Emerson froze, laughing nervously. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Clarke’s jaw set and her hands began to shake slightly, sweat beading her forehead. “Let him go.” She demanded, her voice icy and shaky all at once.

She really fucked up.

“Clarke, no!” Lincoln’s voice filled the gap. “Don’t do this. Just back out, slowly.”

Clarke’s voice was cracking. “And…..and leave you? It’s my fault you’re here.”

Emerson nodded slowly. “That’s right, Clarke. Back out, slowly. You can leave, and no one has to get hurt.”

Clarke felt hot tears threaten to spill. She’d never killed, never taken a life. She wouldn’t be okay. But for Lincoln? What choice did she have?”

“Clarke. You owe this to your people!” Lincoln shook his head.

“You _are_ my people.” Clarke replied, hand tightening around the trigger.

“They’re here!” One of Emerson’s men came running into the bar through the front double doors.

“Who?” Emerson spat, still frozen in place.

“Woods.” The man panted, bending over to catch his breath.

Clarke's heart all but stopped. Lexa. Lexa was in the vicinity. Lexa had hear her silent, mental pleas for help. But at the same time, she feared. She feared for Lexa's safety, her well being, despite her prowess. She wouldn't let Lexa get hurt because of her stupid, self-endangering, impulsive decisions.

“Fuck!” Emerson hissed, as his men loosened up on Lincoln, who wrenched his arms free with a growl.

Sure enough, the doors were practically blown open by Gustus, allowing Lexa to enter full force, gaze alert but a bored smile on her lips. “Carl.” She smirked. Her eyes searched the room expertly until they landed on Clarke, widening just a little, with concern secretly written all over her expression. 

Clarke's heart soared uncontrollably. She was going to make it. Lexa came for her. 

 _For Lincoln,_ she corrected herself. 

Emerson balked, but froze once he remembered Clarke still had her gun pointed at him.

“Lexa.” Emerson practically spat.

“Is there a problem?” Lexa’s voice was rigid, cutting, fierce. She looked like the angel of death again, her hardened features toting a cutting, chiseled jawline that was clenched with unspoken threats and profanity.

Clarke felt every muscle in her body cry out to move to her, to do something. To save Lexa. Then she remembered that she was the one that needed saving.

Lexa casually walked forward, body tense as she approached Clarke. "I'm here." Her whisper was inaudible. 

She remained still, hand going limp when Lexa took a step behind her, lowering the gun out of her hand.

“I….” Clarke swallowed back the tears and lump in her throat. She couldn't form words, form an apology substantial enough to cover how she'd just risked not only her own life, but Lincoln's and now Gustus' and Lexa's as well. And for what? Nothing. 

“Shh.” Lexa shook her head, turning to Emerson. She advanced slowly, gun loosely in her grip as she came face to face with the aggressor, words now transformed into a growl. “One more false move like this and I swear I will let the Grounders rip your _pathetic_ little existence to shreds. Are we clear, Emerson?”

Emerson looked down, knowing the magnitude of the threat. That was her cue. 

“Good. We’re done here.” Lexa snapped, putting on a smirk. She turned, Lincoln joining her and Clarke on the way out, Gustus following suit with  a hard gaze.

Clarke heard Lexa utter, over her shoulder, "Gustus, if anyone moves, kill them." 

Gustus nodded. 

No one dared to say anything, or argue.

Once they were safely out into the D.C. air, Lexa whipped around suddenly, grabbing a fistful of Lincoln’s shirt. “What the fuck were you thinking? She's not trained, Lincoln. And to _Emerson,_ of all the sacks of shit?!” She spewed, voice like a wildfire ravaging a serene forest.

“ _Heda_ , I…” Lincoln froze, shaking his head. What could he possibly offer up? 

“Is it _not_ your job to protect me and _my own_ , Lincoln?” Lexa snapped. "To make sure she-" she nodded at Clarke, who'd fallen silent, "doesn't come to harm?" 

Lincoln looked surprised. “Of course, but-“

“Is Clarke not _mine_ \- one of _my people_?” Lexa spat. "Did you not take an oath to protect Clarke? Was that not our deal?" 

Clarke’s heart had the audacity to flutter at the thought of being Lexa’s anything. She felt her world spinning. "You made Lincoln swear to protect me?" She gasped, unsure of whether to feel violated, insulted, honored, or grateful and in awe of Lexa's worry.

“Lexa.” Lincoln’s tone was apologetic. "I'm sorry." 

“Why weren’t you protecting her?” Lexa’s tone was livid. Her emerald eyes were seeing red. 

“Hey! This isn’t Lincoln’s fault!” Clarke snapped, and Lexa’s green eyes went wide with fury. "You!" She whipped around on Clarke. "We're not close to done here. She rides with me. You two- back to work.” Lexa snapped furiously, and it was done.

It was over.

Lexa pulled Clarke out of the fire.

And threw her into a much hotter one of her own design. 

* * *

 

The entire ride home was shrouded in silence. Lexa drove slowly, trying to control her rage. Clarke could see her temple throbbing, her jaw clenching. It was fascinating and beautiful, yet terrifying all at once.

Clarke on the other hand, lost every intention of crying, and was now in a total warring state. She watched the way dark shadows of passing buildings cast heavy outlines on Lexa's face, tired and worn and yet so delicately beautiful.

Even though she probably just owed Lexa her life, Clarke felt rage within her.  Emerson was going to kill her, at best, and at worst…she didn’t want to think about it.

Lexa didn’t stop at the curb of Clarke’s apartment. Instead, she marched behind Clarke, seething with every step, and Clarke knew what was coming.

She couldn’t just close the door on her, could she? It wasn't really a question. 

Instead she braced herself for the impact she knew was coming when she let Lexa march right into her apartment, shutting the door behind her.

“What just happened, Clarke?” Lexa spoke her name with such disbelief and edge that Clarke had to take a step back, ending up against the door. “What the _fuck_ were you doing there? Do you have any idea how dangerous that son of a bitch is? And without me?”

Clarke’s voice hardened as she made her case. “You know what? Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I needed answers, because god knows you and Bellamy haven’t been treating me fairly.”

Lexa’s verdant eyes were set ablaze. “ _Fairly?_ Clarke!” She roared. “You don’t know what you’re messing with. Who you’re screwing around with.”

Clarke laughed bitterly. “Like you do? Hell, Lexa, Ontari and Nia have been plotting to get you out of your chair since they’ve arrived. And now you’re…screwing her?” _Oops. That part wasn’t supposed to come out._

“We are _NOT_ seeing each other like you and your _beloved bartender!_ ” Lexa fired back, her voice as loud as it could have been. “And so what if she takes my place?” Lexa snapped. “You said you _‘didn’t care_ ’!”

Clarke bit down in order to keep from saying something rash, but it was too late. “ _Of course_ I care!” She fired back. “ _You’re_ too blind to see that, though.”

Lexa’s jaw twitched with anger. She took a step back, her face inches apart from Clarke’s.

Clarke moved forward, advancing until Lexa was backed up against the coffee table suddenly, hands searching behind her for a grip.

Both of their chests were heaving with the effort of berating each other, their pupils dilated, lips parted in hurried breaths.

 “I might not be around for you then, and you need to accept that!” She hurled her words at Clarke like she threw her pen into the map so many days ago.

“Like HELL I do!” Clarke’s response was furious.

"Why are you so stubborn, so naive?!" Lexa demanded, voice rising. "Why can't you trust what I say like everyone else? All you do is cause me pain and problems and difficulties!" Her breath was labored. "Why are you so erratic- so curious and troublesome and-" 

"I hate you!" Clarke spat, shaking now. "I hate that you're so controlling and secretive, and one minute you're kind and sweet and the next you're cold blooded! You act like I can't handle the truth and you throw me in the middle of your fucking gang war, and then you get upset at the prospect of me getting hurt?!" Clarke was livid now, heat and rage swelling like an inferno inside her chest. And....and...I can't stand the way you threaten everyone like you're some hot shit but you can't even-"

And then it finally, finally happened.

Clarke’s mouth, slightly parted in her anger, found Lexa’s fuller complimentary lips, and they crashed together, hungry and desperate for more.

And then Lexa’s low, uncontrolled moan sent Clarke over the edge, and she lifted Clarke up with strong, toned arms, turning so that she could set Clarke on the table, lips never leaving each other in their continuous entanglement of heat and desperation.

Clarke contributed her own soft whimper when she wrapped her legs around Lexa’s, her thighs locking their bodies against each other.

Clarke ran her hands through Lexa’s gorgeous locks, sighing into her mouth.

It was only when the pairs lungs gave out did they finally resurface for air, foreheads touching, eyes locking, heavy pants filling the air they so rapidly took in.

“Oh…shit.” Clarke mumbled as the two broke apart, Lexa grabbing her bag and tossing it over her shoulder as she fled the apartment, while Clarke darted for the shower in a flurry.

What just happened? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my. That's probably not the last of that argument. (I was gonna update on Sunday, but you guys came through). 
> 
> I have been working on a different, lighter AU (fake dating!)- so if you enjoy the way I write Clexa- maybe check that out?  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439 
> 
> OR this fluff fest right here (Lexa and Clarke help Aden with a crush)  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6409051
> 
> Anyway, I'm at Effortlessly-Opulent on Tumblr if you wanna see story art, chat me up, and all that cool stuff ;) 
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving comments/kudos! They're my favorite part of writing and sharing this with you, and I really try to reply to every one! 
> 
> See you Sunday!


	10. In Sickness and In Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes a world-shattering decision that changes everything.

**(Author's Note: I rated the story M because of violence, sex, some gore, and yes- (minor) Character Death. There is also a mention of suicide in this chapter- possibly more, so please, avoid this if you are particularly troubled by it. I'll try to be brief, not too excessive but...It is a gang story.)**

Just like the anger between her and Clarke, Lexa Woods disappeared.

Well, technically only for a week.

A very difficult week for Clarke indeed, especially since she broke off whatever she had with Niylah.

Clarke had done everything in her power not to think about the kiss. The searing, hot, angry kiss that had both of them shaking against Clarke’s living room furniture. The kiss following their shouting match. The kiss after Lexa probably saved Clarke’s life.

The “I hate you” kiss.

Clarke didn’t mean it. She knew, inside her heart of hearts, she really didn’t mean it. She was angry, frustrated, and terrified.

But there was no way she could hate Lexa Woods and kiss her like that. The raw passion, the desire…the way Lexa’s luscious lips quivered, _actually quivered,_ against hers….as if there was so much more she wanted to say.

And now she was gone.

She gave Anya a notice and simply dropped off the face of the earth, leaving Clarke to deal with the fallout of Ontari, Bellamy, Anya’s scolding, and Lincoln’s profuse apologies, though she knew he was blameless (except for apparently notifying Lexa of where they were).

Clarke didn’t have the luxury of being a recluse and hiding from the world, burrowing her head into the sand and forgetting her reasons for living.

Clarke had to keep her chin up and carry on. And so she did.

* * *

 

The first day back was tumultuous, at best.

Clarke knew Lexa wasn’t there. She knew because Ontari was hovering aimlessly around her office door, commenting on everyone and everything.

Clarke also knew because she could hear Anya sighing from miles away, “No, Ms. Queen, I don’t know when she will return. Yes, Ms. Queen, I’m positive. No, Ms. Queen, I cannot advise you to visit her private estate. Yes, Ms. Queen, I’ll promptly deliver your message.”

Clarke chuckled to herself, despite the situation. It made the day a little more bearable to see Anya pinch her nose and roll her eyes every two minutes, phone in one hand, the other busy ushering Ontari out of Lexa’s vacant office.

It almost made up for the confrontation Clarke just knew was coming when Anya stepped into her office, apologetically shutting the door behind her.

“Good morning Any-” Clarke never finished, as Anya, clad in a black, tight dress, made her way over, taking her Bluetooth earpiece out of her ear for a moment.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Anya’s voice was oozing disapproval.

“Apparently, I wasn’t.” Clarke mumbled, meeting her gaze wryly. “I’m assuming Lexa told you.”

Anya nodded, folding her arms. “And what if Lincoln died?”

Clark winced. “Well…he didn’t, did he?”

Anya growled. “Gambling with his life is not part of your job here, Griffin.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. Why was she so worried about Lincoln?

“What….exactly _is_ my job here, Anya?” Clarke snapped, feeling suddenly brave. If she could stand up to Lexa, she could take her second-in-command as well.

“To shut up and do as you’re told.” Anya snapped, tossing her long hair over a shoulder. “And stop causing Lexa such headaches. God knows she has enough on her plate without you…” she motioned to Clarke dramatically. “-doing whatever the hell you think you’re doing.”

Clarke sighed, putting her hands up in defeat. “I know. That’s why I signed up to work extra Clinic shifts at the hospital.”

Anya narrowed her eyes. “Without asking?”

Clarke mirrored her look. “I need to ask to save lives?”

Anya scoffed. “What if Lexa needs you here?”

“What, to pretend I’m actually working in front of Ontari?” Clarke couldn’t help the anger in her tone.

Anya shook her head. “Whatever, Griffin. Your funeral.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Clarke mumbled.

Anya turned mid stride, glancing at Clarke for a moment. “I…no.” She shook her head, before walking away, leaving Clarke dumbfounded.

No one ever stopped contradicting themselves in this hell of a family.

 

* * *

 

Clarke felt a hand grasp her own as she stood by the water cooler by the office lounge, waiting for her glass to fill up. She tried not to jump as she glanced down at the hands.

“Lexa?” It was instinctive…hopeful, even.

“No.” Ontari’s voice wasn’t apologetic in the slightest. Clarke whipped around to take in the dark haired beauty, who looked absolutely hopeful without Lexa to cling to.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Clarke spoke bitterly, taking a sip of water to distance herself from Ontari’s harsh gaze.

“Lexa’s disappearance.” Ontari’s response was sharp. She raised a brow. “I know she went after you yesterday.”

Clarke tried not to look surprised as she shrugged it off. “Don’t be too upset, Ontari. She probably didn’t mean anything by the kiss…she was probably just bored and reacted rashly.” Her voice was venomous.

Ontari’s eyes flared. “Is that your professional opinion, Doctor Griffin?”

Clarke leaned forward, feeling suddenly unafraid.

What did she have to lose?

“Is there something you want, Ontari?” Clarke pressed.

Ontari looked at Clarke knowingly. “I want to know what happened, yesterday.” She said evenly, lowering her voice.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “If Lexa didn’t fill you in, it probably wasn’t…pertinent.” She turned, heading back for her office.

“Going somewhere, Griffin?” Ontari’s voice was threatening.

“Yeah, to a clinic, to actually do something…productive.” Clarke muttered as she left Ontari in the hallway, turning to grab her things.

She was done letting people intimidate her. Lexa, Ontari, Bellamy, Anya….all of them be damned. She was a Griffin, and Griffin’s weren’t ones to shy away from conflict.

Her father’s shameful legacy made that much apparent.

* * *

 

“Clarke.” Lincoln was jogging to catch up with her in the lobby of Lexa’s building, almost out of breath.

Clarke stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn’t spoken to Lincoln since the “Emerson Incident”, as she’d mentally dubbed it, the day prior.

Anya was right. Lincoln could have been dead because of her negligence.

He smoothed a hand over his shaved head awkwardly standing between Clarke and the door, causing his leather jacket to tighten around his arms.

Clarke could see why Anya maybe still had a thing for him.

“Hey.” Clarke’s voice was soft, racked with guilt. “It’s my bodyguard.”

Lincoln offered her a smile. “Now that the secret’s out…yeah.”

Clarke sighed, running a hand through her golden hair. “So…Since day one, Lexa had you watching me?”

Lincoln nodded slowly, swallowing. “Yeah. But…that’s not why we’re friends, Clarke. I could’ve watched you from a distance.”

“But getting to know me made it so much easier.” Clarke retorted, crossing her arms. Was there anyone in her life who was actually telling her the truth for once?

“Clarke, _strisis_ ….” Lincoln put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s not like that. We’re friends because….I know who you are. And hopefully, you know what kind of guy I am.”

Clarke nodded. “I want to trust you…especially because of….Octavia.” Clarke narrowed her eyes, finally managing to get it out.

Lincoln whipped around, heaving a sigh of relief when he realized no one was looking. “Are you crazy?” He hissed. “Don’t…..don’t say that…”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I covered for you guys once…It’s not like I want to expose you.”

Lincoln sighed. “Anyway…where the hell are you going? It’s not even noon.”

Clarke motioned to the bustling streets outside the main door. “I signed up for some clinic hours.”

Lincoln winced. “Avoiding Lexa?”

Clarke blushed. “That obvious?”

Lincoln glanced down, smiling amusedly. “I hate to break it to you Clarke, but…she’s doing a better job of avoiding you. What happened?”

Clarke shook her head. “Uh….nothing. She just…chewed my ass out.”

Lincoln nodded. “She yells, but…she means well, Clarke.”

“Why doesn’t it feel like it?” Clarke sighed.

“Because….she’s protecting you.” Lincoln murmured. “She’s not usually so invested in our people….it’s strange to see.”

“Yeah well….all that’s out the window now.” Clarke murmured, shaking her head. “I think she hates me.”

Lincoln shook his head. “You haven’t seen the hating side of Lexa Woods, Clarke. Besides…if she hated you, why would she ask me to escort you around if you left the building?”

Clarke turned beet red. “She….did?”

Lincoln nodded. “Emerson is a bit of a wild card. And like I said…she worries about you. So…wherever you go, I go.” He looked determined to carry out the order in light of his last, failed attempt.

“Oh Lincoln…” Clarke shook her head. “I’m sorry I got you roped into my….stupid, stupid…crusade for answers.” She extended her arms, pulling him into a hug.

She wasn’t sure why, but it just felt…right.

“Oh, hey…” Lincoln wrapped strong arms around her. “You’re part of the family now, Clarke. That’s what we do for each other.”

“Pleasant little reunion we’re having.” Anya’s voice sounded from behind the two, making both jump apart, alarmed.

“Anya.” Lincoln smiled wryly. “You want a hug too?”

Anya’s gaze flickered up at him and her lip curled into a thin, threatening smile. “Better. A ride.”

Lincoln looked at her with a questioning gaze. “Why’s that?”

“We have to make our…monthly trip.” Anya smirked, eyes glowing with a strange look as she held up a large envelope.

Lincoln’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Damn, again?”

Anya nodded. “Silence isn’t cheap, is it?”

Clarke looked between them unsurely. She coughed a little to break the silence that fell over the two as they gazed at each other, wry smiles in place.

“Oh!” Lincoln nodded. “I have to take Clarke to the clinic. Lexa’s orders.”

Anya shrugged. “Then Doctor Griffin can…accompany us. Given, you can keep your mouth shut for five minutes?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Accompany you where?”

“You’ll see.” Lincoln smirked. “Today, we’re going to give you a full lesson on the power of Lexa and the Woods family name.”

Clarke perked up. “We’re going to see her?”

Anya barked a laugh. “Dream on, Griffin. We’re going somewhere a lot safer for you…given how pissed she was on the phone.”

Clarke’s shoulders involuntarily sagged as she walked along with her so called new “family”.

* * *

 

 Clarke was anxious. Bouncing knees, fist clenching, eye darting nervous.

Why?

Because she was in the local Police station, sitting in the main waiting room. The air smelled like coffee and regret, and the fake plants in the corner weren’t calming at all.

She bounced her knee in time with the flickering ceiling lights, wondering where the hell Anya had gone when that one deputy had escorted her down the hall and towards the back.

She and Lincoln were told to remain seated in the lobby, next to a few…questionable figures sitting at the far end, likely waiting for news of some kind.

“So…” Clarke turned to Lincoln, who’d been relaxed in his cheap plastic seat, leaning his head against the wall and resting his eyes like it was nap time at a nursery. “Is….Lexa here? Is she…okay? Was Lexa arrested, Lincoln?” Clarke finally blurted out in a harsh whisper, careful not to disturb the receptionist behind his desk.

Lincoln cracked an eye open, chuckling deeply. “No, Griffin. No one was arrested.”

“Then…. why the hell are we _here_? I mean….is it safe, _for us_? Isn’t this the last place _we_ should be?” Clarke couldn’t contain the fear in her voice.

Typically, in her experience, criminals and law enforcement weren’t the best of friends.

And Lexa wouldn’t be there to save her if they decided to stand Clarke up and slap a pair of cuffs on her right there and then for…god knows how many accomplice charges.

Her whole life, wasted, and for what?

“Hey…” Lincoln eyed Clarke with mild concern. “You okay?”

“No!” Clarke hissed. “And why aren’t you whispering? You’re gonna piss him-” she jerked her head in the general direction of the receptionist, “-off! And then what? Lexa won’t bail us out! It’ll be bad for her image!”

“Who, Deputy Todd?” Lincoln boomed, smiling when the receptionist looked up at him with a friendly smile. “Hey man.” Lincoln grinned.

“Lincoln, bro, how’s it going?” The receptionist nodded before turning his attention back to his paperwork.

Clarke gaped. “What.the.actual.fuck?”

Lincoln couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his throat. “That’s why we’re here, Clarke.” He whispered, nodding to the hallway where Anya disappeared to. He made a money sign with his hands, rubbing his thumb against the side of his index finger.

Clarke’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “No…” She breathed. She’d heard about it plenty of times from Bellamy, but she’d never actually witnessed corruption on such a raw level.

“Yes….” Lincoln nodded, rising as Anya came out of the back, laughing with the deputy she’d gone in with.

“Well, Anya…” The deputy smiled. “You’re all set for your half. Just call in before heading our way next time, I’ll be sure to schedule you in.”

Anya nodded and thanked him before joining Lincoln and Clarke as they made their way for the back parking lot.

“How much this time?” Lincoln queried, looking at the smile that was wiped off Anya’s face.

“All of it. Fucking pigs.” Anya muttered, and Clarke felt a deeply rooted sense of offense. How could she talk about the noble heroes of their city like that?

It was against everything she’d ever learned. From school, from what little her parents taught her…anything.

In fact, Clarke was so personally assaulted that she didn’t see the door in front of her swing open, and she bumped smack into someone, who didn’t stumble back half as badly as she did.

Her eyes flew up to her “assailant” and she felt her heart stop.

Octavia Blake, walking in with John Murphy at her side, both with somewhat wide eyes.

For a moment, Clarke almost forgot where she was. “Oc-” luckily, she never finished, because she realized, from Octavia’s hardened blue gaze, that she wasn’t supposed to know her.

Or, that’s what Octavia thought.

Wait? What?

Clarke was too confused to utter a single word.

“Watch where you’re going!” Octavia snapped, seeming to realize she had a part to play.

Lincoln rushed forward to help Clarke steady herself, which proved to be the next error in what was shortly becoming a god damn comedy show.

Octavia’s jaw actually dropped upon seeing Lincoln, and he froze in place, leaving Clarke to question what the hell was going on.

“Hey!” Anya growled, bristling at the sight of a Blake sibling. “Why don’t _you_ watch where you’re going?”

Murphy smirked. “Hey there, big guy…” He took a step forward, Octavia too stunned to stop him. “Didn’t I….kill you?”

Clarke gasped quietly to herself.

Oh, no.

Murphy smirked, bending over insulting, pointing to his back. “One right….here.” He grinned, miming pointing a gun and firing it.

Octavia’s jaw hardened, Clarke noticed, and she looked like she wanted to slit Murphy’s throat. She probably did. Bellamy was the only one who kept him around, as far as Clarke knew. Raven was Octavia’s preferred choice, though…they’d been fighting too much lately.  

“Too bad though….” Murphy chuckled darkly, like Clarke had seen him do thousands of times. “Should’ve been…here.” He tapped his own temple twice, having the audacity to wink.

Lincoln knocked the son of a bitch so hard that Clarke saw blood on Lincoln’s closed fist from Murphy’s split lip.

Octavia’s jaw dropped.

“Hey!” Clarke rose, pulling Lincoln back. “There are cops…down that hall! Stop!”

Anya’s brow furrowed, and then she smirked. “Good hit. I hope you knocked some teeth out.”

Murphy lurched forward, one hand clutching his jaw like a vice grip. “You son of a bitch!” Murphy growled, but Octavia pulled him back.

“Let me finish him.” Murphy pleaded. “You can’t let him get away with this. Especially after all the shit they’ve stolen from us in the past couple of days!”

Octavia looked conflicted, as if she had a gun in hand, and had to decide whether to bury the piping hot lead bullet in Murphy or Lincoln.

Clarke’s eyes widened when Octavia abruptly spun around, fist closed tightly, and hit Lincoln once, square in the jaw.

All for show.

“Christ.” Anya rolled her eyes, turning to face Lincoln. Her long fingers wrapped around his chin, and she pulled him in for a closer look, eyes flashing with concern. “Are you alright?” She murmured.

Clarke almost laughed.

Anya was never kind. Especially not to someone who’d just been punched by Octavia Blake.

Oh, god, she still had…. _feelings_ for him.

Clarke, for one, wasn’t even aware that Anya _had feelings_ until that very moment.

Lincoln nodded mutely, face unable to mask the shock. Clarke’s eyes flicked to Octavia, who looked like she was in physical pain.

“Well this was fun.” Murphy grinned through his pain, ushering Octavia past them, likely going to pay their rounds to the local law enforcement as well. “It’s so strange to see…savages in the city.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Lexa would not be proud of this little…disaster.”

Clarke was shell-shocked yet again.

* * *

 

“You sure you don’t wanna come in?” Clarke prompted Lincoln, who’d walked her to the door of the hospital, looking rather weary from his earlier run in…with his girlfriend.

Lincoln glanced back at Anya while she waited in the car. “Uh…yeah, I think Anya would kill me, if I kept her waiting any longer.”

Clarke smirked. “You could use a little cleaning up. Your girlfriend really knows how to throw a punch. And I’m not talking about Anya…” She motioned to his newly developing bruise.

Lincoln’s face was nothing short of mortified. “Clarke.” He shook his head. “Today…today was a perfect example of what could go wrong if…if we, she and I…keep this up.”

Clarke frowned, biting her lip in thought.

He was so taken with Octavia, it must have hurt doubly when she struck him. Surely he knew it was just to throw Anya and Murphy off their trail, but still.

Lincoln and Octavia deserved so much better than the “under-the-table” shit they were currently enduring.

Clarke shivered at the thought of Lexa or Bellamy finding out. She shook her head, murmuring “That doesn’t mean you should stop, though.”

Lincoln raised a brow quizzically. “It doesn’t?”

Clarke sighed. “I know our circumstances are…well, shitty is an understatement. But failing to live your life because of fear…well, that’s not really living at all, is it?”

Lincoln smiled faintly, about to comment, when Anya’s sharp honking of his car horn made him jump in front of Clarke in a reactionary defensive stance.

Anya rolled down her window, calling out “Hey! This isn’t social hour, we have shit to do Lincoln.”

Lincoln chuckled.

“She loves you.” The words were out of Clarke’s mouth before she had the willpower to control them, or at least mitigate the damage.

Lincoln looked down, suddenly. “I know.”

Clarke looked into his saddened, brown gaze, looking for a meaning to all she’d witnessed. “But you don’t….?”

Lincoln shook his head. “I wish we could talk, but…” he glanced at his watch. “I’m on the clock. I’ll see you around, Clarke?”

Clarke nodded, murmuring, “I’ll talk to Octavia today…without giving anything away. See how she’s feeling.”

Lincoln nodded, mouthing a silent thank you before jogging back to the car, leaving Clarke to ponder what the hell she’d been thinking, signing up for hellish clinic hours, when there were so many broken people who already needed her guidance.

* * *

 

“Well, well, well…” Wells Jaha clapped his hands together, rubbing them thoughtfully as he strode over to the front desk of the clinic, where Clarke had been reading a file, fully clad in her scrubs and coat. His smile was friendly, but his gaze was questioning.

“Wells, wells, wells…” Clarke mocked, offering up a smile to her old friend. His grin was infectious.

“Look who decides to show up for work.” Welles grinned, leaning against the counter.

“I’m sorry, was a personally written excuse from Bellamy Blake not enough?” Clarke teased, turning the page on her file.

Wells rolled his eyes. “You look good, Clarke. Tired, but good.”

Clarke bit her lip, refraining to comment on what she’d been up to. What was she supposed to say, anyway?

Patients and visitors came and passed, and Clarke couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. She’d been at it for a few hours and she was already exhausted. Her stamina certainly wasn’t what it used to be.

“So…” Wells smirked. “How have the clinic hours been treating you?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. Clinic hours were practically a punishment for anyone who didn’t have anywhere else to be. The patients were dramatic, the afflictions were generally minor, and the complaint levels were insane.

Clarke was secretly punishing herself.

“That good, huh?” Wells let out a deep chuckle. “C’mere.” He motioned for Clarke to turn around, and she did, trusting him fully.

When his fingers dug into her tense, knotted back, she let out a groan she didn’t know she was bottling up. Had it not been for the floor’s idle chatter, she probably would’ve been embarrassed.

“Damn Clarke…” Wells let out a low whistle. “You stressed?”

“You have no idea, Wells." Clarke replied in the form of an aching groan, trying not to think of Lexa doing something of that nature to her.

In fact, she could almost see Lexa walking unsurely down the hall in front of her, guided by a nurse.

Clarke blinked.

She was still there.

Clarke froze, tensing up.

“Whoa…” Wells stopped, moving forward to glance at her. “Griff? You just tensed up like-”

“Lexa?” Clarke couldn’t have cared less about Wells in that instant.

“Lexa? Who’s-” Wells never finished, because Clarke ended up jogging away.

“Here’s Doctor Griffin.” The nurse smiled sweetly. “Your girlfriend is such a gem, Clarke.” The older woman smiled as she turned away.

“Girlfriend?” Clarke mumbled. “Thanks…Kathy.”

Lexa looked good. Well, she always looked good. But something was off. When she brushed her brown hair back, she revealed slightly glazed eyes. Clarke could hear her labored breathing, more so than usual, and her heart immediately sank.

“You’re sick.” Clarke murmured, not knowing what to do with her hands, so she shoved them into her pockets awkwardly.

“Clarke.” Lexa mumbled, clutching her temples like her head was about to fall off. “It’s nothing. Are you…alright?”

Clarke felt her heart stop at Lexa’s concern. “Why wouldn’t I be? Lincoln escorted me like you told him to.”

Lexa nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I…Anya told me you’d taken to working here instead of the office.”

Clarke immediately corrected, “Just for…well…in my spare time.”

“You’re so driven to help people.” Lexa murmured, her voice not at all sounding her own. She let out a cough.

Clarke frowned. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re here.”

Lexa made a face. “I don’t do doctors…. or hospitals.”

Clarke let out a soft chuckle. “The notorious Lexa Woods scared of a little checkup?”

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Clarke…” she sighed then. “I wanted to…talk to you. To let you know that…I wasn’t avoiding you.” She was cut off by her own coughing.

Clarke had never seen the fit beauty fairing so poorly. “Hey.” She put a hand on Lexa’s back. “Let’s at least get you home, you need to be taken care of.”

Lexa shook her head. “I’m going to work. I don’t even have medicine at home. I need to focus.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stubborn. This might be the one thing I actually might be better than you at…medicine, that is.”

Lexa bit her lip. “You’re also better at getting into trouble.” She croaked.

God, even when she was sick, she was sexy. How was it fair?

“Come on.” Clarke guided her gently towards the doors. “You drive here?”

Lexa nodded stiffly.

“Give me your keys.” Clarke commanded.

“Clarke.” Lexa protested stubbornly.

“Lexa.”

“We just fought…”

“And now we’re…working on it.” Clarke ignored her petty excuse.

So they weren’t going to talk about the kiss…

“Fine.” Lexa acquiesced, shifting her balance onto Clarke out of sheer weakness alone.

“Thank you.” Clarke plucked the keys from her hand, smiling victoriously.

“Be careful.” Lexa mumbled as she sat in the front seat of the SUV. “It’s under the company name. Try not to scratch it.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You know, for someone who came to apologize, you sure make a lot of snide little comments.”

Lexa smiled tiredly, amusedly, watching as Clarke played the first available disc in the player.

Classical music poured out of the speakers on either side of them, and Clarke’s jaw dropped. Lexa didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with that.

“Seriously?” It wasn’t really a question from Clarke.

“Hmm?” Lexa groaned, leaning her head against the window.

Clarke’s heart ached for her. She was probably worn out.

“Classical? What is this, Mozart?” Clarke scoffed.

“The Sonata _Pathetique_ …” Lexa’s accent was delicate and Clarke realized she must have spoken more than one language. Was there anything… _. wrong_ with Lexa Woods?  “….I used to play that particular piece, when I was younger. Mother wanted me to be a concert pianist.” Lexa laughed dryly to herself.

How wrong Mother Woods had been.

“You know how to…” Clarke sputtered. “You play? Oh my god, that’s….wow.” Her cheeks reddened as she imagined Lexa behind a piano, deft fingers rapidly tapping at ivory keys.

“Like your artistic abilities.” Lexa replied, leaving no room for argument. “I envy them.”

Clarke snorted a laugh. “You’re so weird.”

Lexa was content to simply doze off until Clarke pulled up to her own apartment, unsure of whether Lexa’s would be suitable.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this, taking care of Lexa Woods. Especially after their…spat. But one look at the softly breathing brunette and she was a goner.

It was her duty, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she sworn an oath?

Okay, that much was bullshit, even Clarke knew that.

But Lexa needed care, and Clarke felt guilty for all the damage she’d done (the stress that weakened Lexa’s immune system was probably her fault…), and she’d be damned if she let that stop her.

“Lexa…?” Clarke murmured, unsure of whether to touch her.

Lexa cracked a glossy emerald eye open. “I’m awake.” She replied gently, looking unsure of what to do with herself. Clarke had never seen her so vulnerable before.

“Let’s…get you some soup.” Clarke offered as she led the short way to her apartment door, brandishing her keys from her back pocket.

“You changed your locks.” Lexa noted in a soft murmur.

“Are they up to snuff?” Clarke chuckled, stepping aside to let Lexa in first, ever the gentlewoman.

Lexa, even in her sickly haze, cracked a smirk. “Not enough to keep me out, it seems.”

“I wouldn’t dream of that, Lexa.” Clarke rolled her eyes, shutting the door behind her. “Let’s…get you comfortable, huh?” Clarke motioned to her couch, grabbing the blanket that hung off the side. “Lay down.” She instructed.

“Clarke, I’m not an invalid, I’m-” Lexa grumbled in protest, but Clarke cut her off.

“Shut up and rest.” Clarke rolled her eyes, an amused glint in them.

“Yes, doctor.” Lexa snapped hotly, doing as she was told. Clarke felt guilty at the odd burn she felt at Lexa calling her doctor and taking her orders.

_Really Clarke? Grow up._

Clarke felt like she was mildly uncomfortable in her work blouse and pants, but she was certain Lexa wouldn’t accept clothing. She sighed, draping the blanket over Lexa with a huff.

“Do you…want to watch tv or something, while I make you something?” Clarke tried, folding her arms unsurely.

“I…don’t really watch TV. Documentaries, typically. I enjoy the ruthless pragmatism of ‘House of Cards’ on Netflix, though.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, laughing. “Of course you do. How about taking a nap, then?”

Lexa snorted. “Don’t be such a valetudinarian.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “Big words, learn that from one of your documentaries?”

Lexa smirked. “Military school, I’m afraid.”

“Is that why you’re so…strict? So hard on yourself?” Clarke tried, turning towards the kitchen.

“This life demands that much, Clarke. I fear what would happen if I weren’t.” Lexa’s response was soft, leaving Clarke in a deep, thoughtful state in the kitchen.

* * *

 

“So you can cook, too? Clarke Griffin, a woman of many talents.” Lexa commented as she finished her soup, Clarke sitting beside her on the couch, the blanket a very vital barrier between them.

“I can’t really take your word for it, considering you can hardly taste.” Clarke shot back, a wry smile on her face.

Lexa didn’t respond. Instead, she found herself gazing at Clarke’s lips, though she was a respectful distance away.

Clarke suddenly felt a rush of heat, and she glanced away. “I should probably clean that up…” Clarke murmured, reaching for the dish.

Lexa caught her hand, and they locked gazes, intensely. “I’m sorry, Clarke.” She murmured, and Clarke instantly had flashbacks to the night where Lexa drugged her.

This time it was different.

This time it was real.

Clarke frowned. “What for?” She straightened up, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“For…yesterday.” Lexa began slowly, voice low and throaty, laced with attraction and tiredness.

“I…Me too.” Clarke sighed. “I was so…so far out of line. And I know what you do with Ontari is your business. I just-”

“It wasn’t…I’m not…I know, about Ontari.” Lexa sighed, rubbing her temples, ushering away a threatening headache. “I was…trying to learn what she knew. And I thought the best way was to just…get closer.”

Clarke’s heart was racing a mile a minute. “Oh.” She breathed gently.

“Still, the way I raised my voice…That was uncalled for.” Lexa looked incredibly uncomfortable. “You have my sincerest apologies, Clarke. I…hope it won’t happen again.”

She was talking about the kiss. Clarke knew it. Clarke knew it was a mistake, and yet it felt so incredibly right, and now Lexa was apologizing for it.

“I’m sorry I made you sick.” Clarke could only think of that reply, feeling like an idiot in a matter of seconds.

Lexa raised a brow in question. “You did?”

Clarke shook her head. “I mean…you have a cold, probably caused by a weakened immune system, usually a symptom of stress.  And yesterday, you said that I stressed you out…”

Lexa cut her off, squeezing Clarke’s hand.

Such convoluted logic.

But Lexa wouldn’t refute the point. She would never admit to Clarke that she was actually sick because she spent the whole night agonizing over what she’d done to push Clarke away.

Agonizing…over the feelings she felt, but didn’t want to feel.

“Clarke.” Lexa rasped gently. “I didn’t mean anything I said yesterday.”

“I…I don’t hate you.” Clarke murmured, Lexa nodding in response.

“I just...I’m protective.” Lexa began. “Of my people.” She added, mitigating the romantic effect it might have had. “I know them, Clarke. Despite what you may think…I love them. They’re my family.”

Clarke nodded slowly, wondering where this was going to end.

“I know about Anya and Lincoln.” Lexa stated finally, leaning back. “I know that Anya…isn’t over him.”

Clarke’s heart caught in her throat. She didn’t know about Octavia. Octavia was safe.

“My point is that…If I overreacted…it wasn’t out of spite, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, but her eyes were getting heavier and heavier, and she could no longer fight the strong sensation to sleep.

Clarke was silent, gently adjusting the pillow beneath Lexa’s head. The medicine had finally kicked in.

Clarke’s phone buzzed without ringing, and Clarke immediately glanced down. Bellamy had just sent her a text, reading:

_Heard you have the info. Can I call?_

Clarke rose from her warm cocoon on the couch, slipping outside the door silently, leaving Lexa to rest.

Lexa Woods had just ruined her original plans.

* * *

 

“Bellamy.” Clarke spoke firmly, trying to hide the shakiness of her voice.

“Hey, Clarke.” Bellamy’s voice boomed on the other end, very clearly excited for whatever news Clarke possessed.

“I have some answers for you.” Clarke bit her lip.

Her original plan was to rat out Lexa. Just tell Bellamy everything. Her schedule, about Nia and Ontari, everything.

In her rage and despair, Clarke wanted to see Lexa Woods burn.

But she’d seen what was perhaps a glimpse of the real Lexa. A kind, caring, passionate leader. Someone who would die for not only her people, but…Clarke too.

“Let’s hear it, Clarke.” Bellamy coaxed gently. “Tell me, and I’ll fix everything. The sooner you help us bring Woods down, the sooner this nightmare can be over.”

Clarke had to wonder if she ever could live a normal life again.

Not after this.

“Emerson. Carl Emerson.” Clarke spoke firmly, hoping to god Lexa couldn’t hear her.

“What about him?” Bellamy’s voice was raw with anticipation.

“He worked for Lexa.” Clarke began slowly.

“Yeah, he still does.” Bellamy clicked his tongue. “So?”

“He…went rogue. Went behind her back, started attacking you guys. It’s not Lexa. It’s Emerson who’s been stealing your shit, Bell.”

Bellamy was silent, for a moment.

“Bell?”

Silence, save for the distinct sound of a pen scratching on paper, a sound Clarke was quite used to due to her artistic inclination.

“…Are you positive, Clarke? Airtight. No mistakes?” Bellamy’s voice was unreadable. It was almost as if there were someone else in the room with him.

“…Yes.”

“That son of a bitch. Okay, thanks.”

Bellamy hung up abruptly, and Clarke was left feeling tenser than yesterday, when she was in Emerson’s clutches.

The dread that gnawed at Clarke’s stomach grew, pitch back and upsetting, grew immensely as it undid her insides.

* * *

 

“Mmm…” Lexa groaned, barely opening her eyes as she stirred when she felt Clarke’s fingers slide underneath her warm body, preparing to lift her.

Clarke blushed when her fingertips were met with Lexa’s taut back muscles. She thanked the heavens that she worked out enough to carry Lexa, even though she was light and all-muscle.

“I…walk…” Lexa murmured.

Clarke felt bad. She _may_ have given her a hefty dosage of hospital-grade fever-reducer. “Hah, as if.” Clarke snorted gently, lifting her boss, blanket and all, and carrying her the short distance to her bedroom.

Clarke gently placed her on her own bed, lifting the covers.

She didn’t even think about undressing Lexa. That was one she wouldn’t be able to justify in the morning.

“I’ll tell Anya you’re here so she doesn’t have a bitch fit.” Clarke assured her, even though Lexa probably couldn’t register much in her sleepy haze.

Lexa blinked in response, eyes closing once more. “Clarke.” She mumbled gently. “Thank you.”

Clarke smiled to herself before shutting off the lights and heading to the bare living room couch, her makeshift bed for the evening.

There was a gorgeous girl in her bed, quite possibly the girl of her dreams, and she was going to watch documentaries on the couch.

Being a doctor was hard.

* * *

 

Somewhere else in the city, later on in the evening, two star-crossed lovers had finally reunited themselves.

Octavia practically ran into Lincoln’s arms when he opened his apartment door, bruised jaw dropping shock.

“Octavia!” he hissed, catching her with ease. “Jesus Christ, are you trying to get yourself killed?” He looked around the outside of his door, worried that she’d been followed, like their earlier brunch mishap.

“I was careful, Linc.” She murmured, taking a step back to graze his chiseled jaw with her fingertips. “Holy shit…” her eyes almost watered. “I…I am so….so…. sorry.” She breathed.

Lincoln laughed wryly. “Are you kidding? It was fantastic. Highlight of my day, being punched by a goddess.”

Octavia rolled her eyes, shutting the door behind her. Her brown locks bounced as she let out a giggle when he picked her up, carrying her to the couch, where he fell with her on top of him. “Don’t go all soft on me now, Princess.” He grinned.

“I’m not.” Octavia huffed. “It’s just…it sucks, that we have to do this.”

Lincoln sighed, eyes tenderly meeting her pools of blue. “You know…. My friend told me that…we can’t live our lives in fear of consequences, because…that’s not really living.”

Octavia blinked, taking his words to heart. “Your friend, huh?” She narrowed her eyes. “That Anya bitch?”

Lincoln laughed, shaking his head, “Why?” He teased. “Jealous?”

Octavia turned away childishly, squealing uncharacteristically when he planted soft kisses up her neck, pulling her close until she acquiesced and turned to him, their lips meeting in a soft, teasing conversation.

“Was it Clarke?” Octavia breathed gently, resting her head on Lincoln’s chest in contentment.

Lincoln froze. He swallowed, nodding slowly. Octavia wasn’t an idiot.

“Do you…like her?” Octavia murmured.

Lincoln stiffened. “I do.” He nodded into her hair, breathing deeply.

“Protect her…” Octavia sighed. “God knows I’ve tried….covering for her with Bell. And she doesn’t even know it…” she laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “I mean…do you know how much it hurt? She’s, like, my sister and she had to look me in the eyes today and pretend she didn’t know me.”

Lincoln’s heart ached for her, his beautiful Queen, so selfless and bold. She’d known all along, and yet she never said anything to Clarke.

“If Bellamy ever found out…” Octavia sighed.

“Bellamy?” Lincoln snorted. “Try Lexa…”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Octavia smirked, turning to Lincoln.

“Octavia, she’s brutal. She’s in charge for a reason.”

“Oh…I don’t doubt that. It’s just….she has the biggest heart eyes for Clarke…ever. She’s totally whipped.” Octavia smirked.

“She? What about Clarke, huh?” Lincoln teased. “She wants to jump her bones, practically. I mean…they both do. How do they not see that?”

Octavia smirked, turning to straddle Lincoln, who mirrored her expression, stiffening.

“Well..” She drawled, leaning into his ear. “If they’re too stupid to take advantage of that….that’s not our problem, is it?” She attacked his lips in a hot fury, moaning when he turned her over, pinning her hands down.

“You sure you can handle this?” Lincoln growled teasingly in her ear.

“Shut up…” Octavia threw back breathlessly at him, eyes shimmering with love and attraction. “Tease.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Clarke found herself waking entirely on her own, around six. The birds happily sang and chirped melodies from behind her window, and she realized, with a dull ache, that she’d slept on the couch.

All of Welles’ masseuse work was for nothing, Clarke thought, as she rubbed the kink out of her neck.

She stiffened, realizing Lexa was currently in her house.

Was she?

Had she woken up and fled in the night, a stubborn whirlwind of “I’m fine” and “I have to get back to work”?

Clarke stretched gently, her shirt riding just above her midriff as she did so, exhaling with a quiet sigh.

Time to face the empty bed.

Clarke padded her way into her own bedroom, quietly stepping in with baited breath.

There, in all her peaceful, picturesque, sleeping glory, was Lexa Woods. Curled up into a ball under Clarke’s duvet, breathing ever so softly, and less labored than yesterday, as Clarke noted.

Clarke bit her lip.

Lexa’s brunette hair was splayed neatly over her shoulders, her hands cutely clasped together as they supported her head. Her eyes were closed, revealing long lashes.

Clarke felt her heart literally ache, and wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

And then she decided to it. Leaning forward for her desk, she grabbed the nearest pad of paper and art pencil and sat down onto her chair with the tiniest creak, grateful that Lexa didn’t stir.

For what was maybe an hour, Clarke sketched away, lip sticking out in utter focus and attention for every single little detail that comprised Lexa’s angelic face.

Maybe it was odd, the way Clarke stared on as Lexa slept.

She didn’t do it hungrily, even.

It was…another emotion entirely. Clarke couldn’t think of a name for it…she wasn’t even sure if she’d ever felt it before.

Lexa was different, here. Her shell, her armor composed of threats and insults and snaps…it was all gone.

Seeing Lexa so young and free, peacefully surrendering to the realm of eternal happiness and limitlessness, it gave Clarke hope.

And Clarke Griffin needed hope.

She rose from her seat nearly an hour later, heading for the kitchen, setting her sketch pad atop a cluttered cabinet holding some of her earlier sketches. She began making coffee, hoping Lexa would be well again today, and that her cold was just a fluke.

She never heard Lexa walk into the kitchen, hair tied back into a messy bun, looking as if she hadn’t spent the night, in her sick, weakened state.

Clarke wondered why she couldn’t ever look as good as Lexa.

“Hey…” Clarke murmured gently.

“Good morning.” Lexa’s voice was back to its normal tone, the rasp gone.

Clarke admonished herself for the disappointment she felt at that. She was sure she could make Lexa’s voice raspy again if she just- wait, What? What the hell was wrong with her?

“How are you feeling?” Clarke cleared her throat.

“Much better, thank you.” Lexa responded almost shyly. “You…carried me?”

“You don’t remember?” Clarke grinned.

Lexa shook her head, eyes showing amazement. “I apologize-”

“Don’t.” Clarke shook her head. “You’re all muscle anyway.”

Both girls realized what she’d just said, and glanced away unsurely.

Lexa was the first to remedy the silence. Her eyes softened, and her gaze watered like she almost wanted to cry. Clarke, for a split second, feared she hadn't recovered.

"You....weren't in bed." Lexa's voice was small, uncharacteristically shy.

Clarke was surprised at how much she enjoyed hearing that from Lexa's lips. "Yeah uh...I took the couch."

Lexa frowned. "But this is your residence. You could have at least...joined me."

Clarke nearly choked at the thought, blushing. "Maybe next time." 

Well....shit. That wasn't supposed to come out.

Instead, Lexa offered her a slightly amused little smile that made Clarke melt.

“Uh…you got your toothbrush and everything I left for you in the bathroom?”

Lexa nodded. “Thank you.”

“Well uh…Why don’t you have some coffee?” Clarke brightened, turning around. “I have to shower. It’ll be ready in a few. Just…pour it out in a mug from the cabinet.”

Lexa nodded slowly. “I really should get back to work…”

“Not without breakfast.” Clarke scoffed.

“I really shouldn’t…” Lexa looked guilty.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “What? Ontari has you on that tight of a leash.”

Lexa frowned. “No one has me on a leash, Clarke.”

“Then you won’t mind a few pancakes.” Clarke grinned.

Lexa blew out a breath. No arguing with that logic, was there?

“Alright. I suppose.”

“Great!” Clarke tried not to eye the way her blouse, slightly unbuttoned, revealed a tank top underneath, clinging tightly to Lexa’s muscled, curvaceous figure. “I’ll just be a second.”

* * *

 

Clarke tried not to think of Lexa while she showered. She tried to think of business, work, formality…anything that wasn’t entirely too enticing.

She found that it came with much, much difficulty.

Those green piercing eyes. They were just outside her bedroom, in the living room.

It felt so strange, so entirely awkward and yet Clarke was enjoying the domestic aspect of it all. She fought off the strange warmth that bubbled in her stomach. Lexa was _here_. Not with Ontari. Not at work. At Clarke’s apartment. It felt right, waking up and having her here.

Even after all the terrible things they’d said to one another.

Clarke felt dissatisfied, despite the scalding hot water that gushed around her shoulders as she washed the week’s events off her like sins cleansed by holy water.

She felt dirty again, despite her cleaning every exposed inch of her body.

It was her thoughts, now.

She couldn’t control herself anymore. She wasn’t sure what it was that she felt for Lexa. It was so unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She knew it was attraction- that was part of it anyway.

Something about Lexa made her…hungry? Was that it? She craved Lexa, after she’d tasted her lips.

Those lips. Thick and inviting, capable of mending and shattering Clarke’s pathetic heart in one fell swoop. Those toned arms, and her abs…her hips that swung when she walked, and her back, holding the weight of it all.

She felt her insides tighten and her thighs clench just thinking about her boss, the predator of a girl that was just _in her bed_.

Lexa’s voice, raspy and low, the way she’d breathed _“Clarke”_. Panting, lips swollen and parted after they’d kissed.

She felt her hand inching slowly towards the heat of  her thighs, in pure disbelief of what she was about to do.

And then she heard a crash. From the living room.

She immediately shut the water off and wrapped herself in a towel, blonde locks falling around her neck like heavy threads of darkened gold.

Clarke’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest as she threw the door open, running in to ensure Lexa’s safety. “Lexa!” She called, turning the corner of the small hallway sharply. “Lexa? Please, tell me you’re okay!”

Clarke rounded the corner to see Lexa, standing there, mouth agape. Her hands covered her mouth and her eyes were wide, sparkling with awe.

Was she shot? Hurt? Bleeding?

Had Bellamy found out and sniped her from a window somewhere?

God, no. She watched too many movies.

 Her fingers were tracing a page of Clarke’s sketchbook, which had fallen off Clarke’s overly cluttered cabinet top- pages littering the floor.

Clarke turned beet red, heart palpitating like a rapid, rhythmic war drum.

Sketches of Lexa, everywhere. They were the kind ones- flattering, focusing on her beautiful smile or her head tilt that made Clarke weak in the knees.

Her eyes were capturing the essence of her soul, smiling amusedly behind emerald specks of color.

And then there was the morning’s sketch. Lexa sleeping peacefully, almost smiling. Clarke thought it might have been her finest work…ever.

And not even that could compare to Lexa in real life.

And there she was, in real life, looking as if she were about to cry.

Clarke felt her life flash before her eyes. She was going to die of embarrassment. All because she’d been a slob and refused to clean her cabinet.

Lexa turned to her, and froze in place once more. This time, her gaze shamelessly took in Clarke’s body, soaking and dripping onto the floor.

Clarke felt herself get chills with each passing second. Heat swelled within her, between her thighs especially, pooling like steam in a sauna.

“I didn’t mean to intrude, this fell and I came to clean it, but-” Lexa’s voice was shaky. Clarke had never seen her like this.

So vulnerable. So raw and beautiful, soft and welcoming, her greatly fortified walls weakened by the flick of Clarke’s artistic hand.

“I’m…” Clarke sighed, using her one free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I never meant to-”

Lexa never let her finish. “Sorry? Why…?” She murmured, eyeing Clarke with a great amount of adoration, awe, and was that…respect?

Clarke bent very awkwardly, trying not to indecently expose herself in her towel, stooping to pick up the remnants of her Lexa collection. “This is so inappropriate, I didn’t mean for it to be like this, I…”

Lexa knelt lower than Clarke, picking up the rest of the sketches.

Clarke could hear her heart. With each beat, she felt a nervous flutter run through her.

Lexa glanced up, into her eyes, and Clarke swore she might have seen tears clouding her eyes. “These are…beautiful. I…. I…thank you, Clarke. Please, don’t apologize.” Her voice was hardly a whisper.

Clarke didn’t see her as a monster.

Clarke depicted her like she was an angel.

No one had ever made such sentiments known to Lexa, and Clarke Griffin had without words.

The two were inches apart, and then Lexa stood, reducing the distance even more so.

Clarke stepped forward, accepting the sketches breathlessly.

“Will you…excuse me, for a moment?” Lexa spoke slowly, her voice breathy.

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah, of course.” Clarke nodded, taking a step back. “I should…I should change.”

Lexa grunted an agreement before stepping outside the apartment, closing the door behind her rapidly.

If Clarke saw her as a monster, she most certainly did not in those breathtaking portrayals.

Lexa Woods smiled genuinely because of Clarke Griffin, and not for the first time.

* * *

 

Dreams of breakfast were, perhaps, shattered by Clarke and Lexa’s tension filled run in. 

Maybe it was for the best, because if Clarke had to go another moment staring at Lexa without being able to…relieve herself, somehow, she was pretty sure the art would be the least embarrassing part of her day.

Clarke had agreed, instead, to simply meet Lexa back at the office.

They’d said their pieces, reconciled, and even shook on it.

Clarke barked out a laugh thinking about it. They shook on it.

If Lexa only knew what went on in Clarke’s mind…

But it was settled.

Clarke had arrived at her normal starting hour, stepping into her office with a sigh, setting her jacket and purse down on her chair, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the sharp florescent lights.

She hadn’t seen Anya or Ontari, so overall, it was a pretty fantastic morning. Clarke whistled a tune to herself, one she couldn’t recognize (it was Lexa’s classical piece from the car). She even smiled a little as she sat down to address the small mountain of paperwork that chad engulfed her desk once more.

So _that_ was Anya’s thank-you for taking care of her sick boss. _How sweet._

Clarke was so engulfed in a particular drug study, that she didn’t noticed Lexa watching her from the doorway.

Lexa cleared her throat, and Clarke took her in.

She was back. Suit, crisp and clean, eyeshadow back in place, and phone in hand.

She had an indiscernible look on her face.

“Hey, feeling better?” Clarke murmured, trying not to get lost in her intelligent, verdant eyes.

Lexa didn’t answer, not immediately. Instead, she crossed over to Clarke’s desk with purpose, coming to stand behind her. She leaned forward, strong arms on either side of Clarke, planted on the desk.

Clarke’s breath hitched. This was… _forward._

She set her phone on the table in front of Clarke, and it displayed a text from a contact called “J”.

It read:

_Heard he was one of yours. My condolences._

Clarke frowned, eyes glued to the screen. She saw a small square of a picture following the text.

Assuming Lexa wanted her to, she leaned forward, opening up the picture with baited breath.

_So much blood._

_Emerson’s lifeless body…. his limp hand holding a gun….so much blood_.

It appeared as if the photo was taken by someone on the police unit or forensics team.

Lexa had contacts everywhere.

Clarke gasped, feeling suddenly very, very sick. She covered her gaping mouth in shock, squeezing her eyes shut.

Lexa sighed, murmuring almost into her ear. “I assume this is your doing.”

It wasn’t a question. Not really.

Clarke couldn’t answer for a moment, trying to focus on inhaling and exhaling. She was frozen in place, in disbelief. “Why would he…” She muttered, unable to get her thoughts together. She was shaking.

Lexa put a hand on her shoulder. “He didn’t.” She began slowly. “It just looks like he killed himself. That…” she tapped on the picture twice, enlarging it. The bullet hole was clean through the side of the temple, aligned perfectly.

Clarke winced, feeling her stomach churn.

“-Is the handiwork of Roan Queen.” Lexa sighed, running a hand through her hair.

Clarke’s heart stopped altogether. She knew that name.

She realized, then, in the haze of that moment, that Lexa did not murder Finn.

It was, as she so eloquently put it, the handiwork of Roan Queen.

Who worked for Bellamy, apparently.

Bellamy Blake murdered Finn Collins.

And Clarke Griffin was responsible for the death of Carl Emerson.

Lexa barely had time to catch Clarke’s head before it slammed into the desk, the result of her sudden fainting.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Clarke has established herself as a player in this twisted little game, the actual story can begin ;)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and leaving kudos and comments. They motivate me to update the chapters sooner (Wednesday update, anyone?) and they let me know how I'm doing! I appreciate you all!
> 
> Looking for some fluff to cool off? (In which Lexa and Clarke help Aden with a crush:)  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6409051
> 
> I'm at Effortlessly-Opulent on Tumblr if you'd like to see art for my fics, or just chat me up and ask for spoilers ;)


	11. A Beautiful Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke deals with the fallout of her actions, and Lexa tries to keep her from snapping. Anya and Raven make game changing discoveries, and Bellamy introduces the newest players to the game.

Clarke faded in and out of consciousness for several minutes, a normal reaction to news that sent her body reeling into shock.

_He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you._

Was Clarke a monster?

It was her fault, and now…Emerson was dead.

_Emerson was dead._

Murdered, though indirectly, by Bellamy Blake.

_Her so called brother._

She’d fought for Bellamy. She’d fought for Lexa. Were they monsters? Was she one by association?

Could she live with herself? She’d broken the doctrine by which she’d lived. She’d broken the Hippocratic oath. She’d taken a life. Bellamy lied to her.

Everything she knew was a lie.

“Holy shit.” A lower voice breathed, from somewhere in the darkness, the aching of Clarke’s pitch black mind and vision.

 _“_ The door, Anya, shut it. Make sure no one disturbs her.” That voice. Clarke would run miles to chase that voice into the setting sun if she had to.

“She’s breathing?”

Long fingers resting on Clarke’s neck.

Silence, for a moment.

“…Yes.” The breathy sigh was etched with relief.

_Clarke felt her head cradled in someone’s lap. She felt the cold, hard floor beneath her, rising to meet the weight of her body. Had she fallen, off the edge of her sanity? Was this hell?_

_No, her father wasn’t here. Couldn’t be._

_Clarke took a breath. She opened her eyes, immediately adjusting them to the blinding light that she was met with. She glanced down out of force- and found that she was wearing a black dress._

_Such a familiar scene._

_Clarke glanced up curiously at the sound of various sniffles. And there it was._

_The lush, grassy meadow. The sun swelling overhead, birds chirping softly as they soared and glided from branch to branch, dust particles floating in the golden glow of the light._

_Finn was grinning, his eyes alight with happiness. He was alive, in that picture. That same picture that stood on a stand, in the middle of the cemetery._

_Gentle sobs were muffled by handkerchiefs and sighs._

_“You’re going to be alright.” Bellamy’s voice, thick with remorse, sounded from behind Clarke, as he put a strong hand on her shoulder. “We’ll make it through this together.”_

_Clarke turned, surprised at his touch. He looked devastated, as if he’d lost a younger brother. His eyes, usually warm and brown, were glossy and tired. He wasn’t looking at Clarke, like everyone else was, so expectant to see the girlfriend mourn._

Clarke felt the ghost of a kiss pressed to her temple, and she ached for those lips. “I’m here.” The voice sounded gently, though not loudly enough to shake Clarke from whatever subconscious nightmare was gripping her.

_He was staring at Raven, who’d all but crumbled up against the nearest tree, tears freely streaming down her devastated face._

_Clarke’s soul ached for the girl, so clearly in love._

_Clarke wanted to end things with Finn. She had, in a way. They were distancing themselves from each other, because Finn was becoming more and more involved in Bellamy’s covert, shady affairs._

_And then he lost it._

_“Clarke.” Finn’s voice rang in her ears. “Come back to me, Clarke.”_

_Clarke furrowed her brow, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I never left, Finn….” She called out to him, angry to find that her calling out had no effect._

_No one looked. No one turned._

_“Clarke…” There it was again. “Come on.”_

_It wasn’t Finn. That low, beautiful, melodious voice._

_Clarke wanted to bask in the warmth it caused within her. To soak up its golden light, to leave all the pain and confusion behind her._

_Like a siren, it beckoned_ her forward, and she obliged, completely letting herself go.

She blinked hard, and when she opened her eyes, she found that she was staring at the most beautiful sight.

Lexa cradled her head in her lap, hair curtained around her as she eyed Clarke with great concern, her green gaze infinitely more welcoming and beautiful than the fields Clarke had found herself in just moments before.

Was that a dream?

“Hey…” Lexa’s whisper was gentle as she stroked Clarke’s wet cheek.

“Hey.” Clarke murmured, feeling her heart drop.

It was all a very painful reality.

* * *

 

Clarke sat up, incredibly regretful to have left the rare, warm, protective embrace of Lexa’s arms in exchange for her chair. Lexa sat herself on Clarke’s desk after fetching a cup of water for her, the lines of worry still etched onto her angelic expression.

“Here.” Lexa handed her the cup, still tense, as if she were ready to catch Clarke if she ever fell.

Lexa was always there to catch her, it seemed.

Just like she said she would be.

“Thanks.” Clarke mumbled, taking the cup and reaching into her bag. “Sorry.” She added sheepishly.

Lexa frowned. “You’re apologizing for fainting?”

Clarke’s blush reddened further. “That was…not what I intended to do.”

“No one intends to lose consciousness, Clarke.” Lexa’s response was gentle.

Clarke rolled her eyes, popping a few pills into her mouth, washing them down her dry throat with the cool, soothing water.

When Lexa eyed her curiously, she muttered, “Advil. Raging headache.”

Lexa nodded slowly, evading her gaze for a moment.

“You caught me, though…I suppose my head could have been feeling a lot worse, if you hadn’t.” Clarke murmured, bringing her cerulean gaze up to meet Lexa’s.

“Like I said…” Lexa began, licking her lips. “May I always be there to catch you, when you fall.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two, and Clarke tried to let her mind wander. For once, in the presence of Lexa, it did not.

It was entirely too tightly wound, too focused on what it had just learned. It writhed and squirmed in pain, agony even.

Too bad they didn’t make Advil for alleviating guilt.

“I…” Clarke began unsurely.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Lexa’s voice was soft, gentle.

She knew Clarke was on the verge of losing it, tears pricking her blue eyes.

“We do.” Clarke sucked in a breath. “I am become death-”

Lexa met Clarke’s gaze sympathetically. “I’d hardly liken you to Oppenheimer, Clarke.”

Clarke couldn’t help the words that burned her throat in anticipation to release themselves into the space between them. “I killed him.” She gasped, rising from her chair abruptly. “I…he’s dead, because of me.” She buried her head in her hands.

If Clarke had been looking up, she would have seen the absolute pain that reflected on Lexa’s observant gaze and softened features.

She ached for Clarke. She longed to show her that she’d hardly done wrong.

But that was against Clarke’s philosophy. She knew a few mere words wouldn’t change Clarke’s mind.

But she could teach her to live with the guilt. To survive, day after day, even when it seemed as if the guilt would swallow her whole. Even when she didn’t want to live with herself.

Because Lexa survived it.

And Clarke was strong, maybe even stronger than Lexa.

She just didn’t know it.

Lexa stood slowly, sighing. “You didn’t kill him, Clarke.”

Clarke looked up, a beautiful mess of tears and remorse, salty tears spilling to the corners of her lips. “It’s my fault.”

Lexa shook her head. “Emerson was…He was a bad man, Clarke.”

Clarke looked up, eyes widening. “You…you’re not mad?”

Lexa bit her lip. “People die, Clarke. Some…sooner than others. That’s the way it goes in this business.”

Clarke couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Lexa…” She breathed. “I can’t live like this. Knowing what I did.”

Clarke waited a moment, silence filling the air between them, making it thicker and tenser by the second. “Will…will there be a funeral? I..should I be there? Oh, god, Lexa…”

Lexa shook her head. “That’s for his people to arrange. You need to let go, Clarke.”

“How?” Clarke silently cursed. “How can you do something like this and move on?”

Lexa frowned, taking a step closer. “You bear it, so that others don’t have to.”

Clarke blinked hard, ushering out tears that pooled in her vision. “But how? How did you live with that contempt….I mean, you didn't kill Finn, Lexa….”

Lexa furrowed her brow, shaking her head slowly. “It's okay, Clarke.” She whispered. “You didn't know.”

“But…” Clarke’s bottom lip trembled slightly, and Lexa couldn't help the urge to embrace her.

“Bellamy lied to me.” Clarke’s voice was withering away, devoid of any emotion, save for sadness and regret. “And now….there’s blood on my hands….Oh, God.” Clarke let out a choked sob she’d forgotten to restrain.

Lexa sighed, wrapping her arms around Clarke firmly, but tenderly. Clarke rested her head against Lexa’s shoulders, feeling sobs rack her body. Lexa knew that she needed someone, for feeling alone at her darkest hour would’ve been disastrous to Clarke’s recovery.

She decided to impart some sage logic to Clarke, in that moment.

“The dead are gone, Clarke. The living are hungry.”

Clarke’s tears stained the side of her jacket shoulder.

* * *

 

“She hasn’t shown up for work in nearly a week.” Anya sighed, rubbing her temples. “I mean, how many times in the six-month span that she’s been here?”

“ _Shof op_ , Anya.” Lexa sighed, rolling her eyes. “She’s in pain. She hasn’t left her home, even.”

“Lexa…” Anya mirrored her exasperation. “She did well. She should be celebrating.”

Lexa bit her lip. “Celebrating death? What distinguishes us from _them_ , then?”

“They started it?” Anya suggested, glancing at her emails casually. She dodged the crumpled ball of trash Lexa threw at her from her seat in Anya’s closed office.

“The argument of a child.” Lexa responded tiredly. “Although I agree. Clarke certainly has…shown promise.”

“Finally.” Anya smirked. “Here I thought you _hated_ her.” Her tone was overly exaggerated.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lexa asked boredly, or at least trying to appear so.

“It means…everyone has seen the way you look at her, Lexa.”

Lexa’s smile fell off her features, glancing at Anya hotly. “You’d speak to me that way?” She challenged.

Anya smirked. “I’m not addressing _Heda_. I’m addressing _Lexa,_ my best friend. Who’s fallen for our lovely resident doctor.”

“Anya.” Lexa growled. “Don’t joke with me, I’m not in the mood.”

“What makes you think I’m joking, Lexa? You tend to forget this, but you _are_ human…” Anya began.

“Don't, Anya.” Lexa’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“Why is it so goddamned hard for you to let someone in?” Anya snapped, clearly unafraid of Lexa’s void threats.

“I let you in, didn't I?” Lexa muttered.

“And what was so wrong with that?” Anya tutted, fingers flying away at her keyboard.

“Anya….” Lexa’s voice was strained. “ I can’t.”

“Can't? Or won't?” Anya was relentless. Lexa was reminded of why she liked her so much.

“Love is weakness. It blinds me from my duties…It’s a distraction. That's how….that's how I lost _her_.”

Anya shook her head. “Costia leaving wasn't your fault. She just….got scared.”

“Of me? Of what I've become?” Lexa buried her head in her hands. “Sentiment should never muddle a leader’s thinking. Love is blindness, Anya.”

“Who's said anything about love?” Anya smirked, knowing she’d just beaten Lexa at her own interrogation game. Checkmate.

Lexa looked flustered. “I….I didn't….you said….”

Anya gasped, eyes flashing, “Oh…shit.” She murmured.

Lexa cursed her own inability to come up with a quick retort.. “Anya, I'm not-”

“Not that, Lexa.” Anya rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Look….” She pointed to the lit display of her laptop.

Lexa came forward, eyes scanning the screen rapidly. “Well, I’ll be damned, Anya…” She let out a low whistle. “You found her. Where?”

“New York.”

* * *

 

“God dammit, Griffin, shut that phone off or I will shut it off for you!” Anya’s scolding echoed across the brightly lit halls of the office, where Clarke returned to, after she snapped out of the first stage of her shock.

Clarke’s friends had been calling her and texting her non-stop after she’d all but dropped off the face of the earth after her fainting.

And how could she? How could she…celebrate with them? Smile and pretend that everything was alright, no, better than alright.

How could she act like Carl Emerson’s death was a victory?

“Anya.” Lexa’s tone was icy, sounding off from Clarke’s office doorway. “ _Em pleni_.” That’s enough.

“Sorry.” Anya grumbled, her head buried in some seemingly important task. “I know; I know…It’s her first day back. Welcome back, Clarke.” She sounded like a scolded schoolchild apologizing for eating the last cookie.

“Thank you…” Clarke responded numbly.

That’s all she’d been, lately.

Numb. Numb and oh so cold.

Lexa had given her space, trusting her not to lose her mind and shout into the bustling streets that she was an accomplice, if not a murderer.

Even if the victim was a murderer, himself.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was sharp, but sympathetic all at once. Clarke wondered how she managed to convey that simultaneously. She shut Anya’s door, giving the two of them some much needed solitude.

“Lexa.” Clarke sighed, less than evenly, her tone giving away her recently adopted defeatist outlook on life.

“Anya’s right.” She murmured, approaching Clarke’s desk gently. “I’ve heard your phone ring maybe…five times in the last ten minutes? And then I heard you switch it to vibrate…which really isn’t subtle on a wooden desk.”

Clarke blushed a little. Lexa wanted to kiss those cheeks in happiness- at least she could still get some emotion from the poor girl.

 “Sorry. I’ll turn it off.”

“Or…” Lexa shrugged. “You could answer your worried friends and family.”

Clarke bit her lip. “How…do you know?”

“I went through this, Clarke.” Lexa sighed, her gaze telling Clarke everything she needed to know. “You’re drawing back from everything and everyone that means something to you.”

“Not everyone.” Clarke muttered, feeling attacked. “Not you. I'm here, aren't I?”

Despite the circumstances, Lexa’s very heart fluttered at the implications behind Clarke’s little confession.

Lexa leaned against Clarke’s desk, eyes locking with Clarke’s. “Obligation doesn't count, Clarke.”

Clarke let out a breath. “Isn’t that what you do? Shut everyone out?”

“Not everyone.” Lexa murmured gently. “Not you.” She parroted softly, eyes finding Clarke’s lips.

“I…don’t know what to say.” Clarke admitted shyly. “Uh… To them, I mean.” She clarified.

“Nothing, if you don’t want to. Bellamy just needs to think he quelled the attacks, and your other friends just miss you, Clarke.” Lexa offered easily.

“I don’t want to.” Clarke knew she sounded childish.

Lexa could tell, if this continued, she’d quickly recede into nothing more than the shell of the great woman she was capable of being.

Lexa would never let that happen. Not to Clarke.

If it required a little kick start, Lexa would be damned if she wouldn’t be the one to give it to Clarke.

“You need to get out of this rut, Clarke. You've had time to sort your thoughts.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She needed to get the old Clarke back. The fiery, beautiful, raging one that made Lexa’s heart throb and her anxiety run rampant.

Clarke bristled. “Yeah? Easier said than done. Why do you care if I just show up for work anyway? I’m keeping my end of this bargain…. If you can call it that.”

Lexa smirked internally. There was that fire she knew Clarke possessed. Time to ignite it further.

“You know, it’s a shame, Clarke. I was really beginning to view you as my equal.” Lexa even felt a bit overboard, but it was working. Clarke's eyes were alight with energy.

“Oh, for murdering someone?” Clarke growled gently.

Lexa fought the urge to console her. She didn't need that. Not at that moment, anyway. “Murder?” She let out a dry laugh. “Clarke, you buckled down and did what needed to be done. You eliminated a criminal bastard in the process. What's so wrong with that?”

Clarke backed down, eyes averting Lexa’s hot green gaze. “I….”

Lexa knew she had to push, now. “You're not even angry with me, Clarke.”

Clarke rose from her seat, bringing her face within inches of Lexa’s.

Lexa tried not to stare at the rise and fall of her chest, the sharp breaths through gently parted lips, the all too familiar urge to _show_ Clarke how much she was worth.

She kept a level head though, wary of her prior talk with Anya.

“Oh yes I am.” Clarke uttered through gritted teeth.

This fire was a good sign, there was life left in her still.

She was going to be okay.

Lexa went in for the kill. “Your anger is with Bellamy, for abusing your trust. You hide and cower for something he did to you years ago. It’s _patheti_ c.” Lexa tutted. “Answer your damned calls and speak to them.”

Clarke grabbed her phone dramatically. “You know what? I will. And I’ll talk so loudly that you’ll hear me from the next room. And then I’m leaving work early to see them.”

Lexa fought off the urge to laugh. There was her girl. “Fine.”

Clarke needed to confront her demons head on.

“ _Some_ solution.” Anya groaned from her office.

* * *

 

Bellamy was all smirks and jokes, by the time Clarke finally got to his office, later that afternoon.

Clarke felt her hands ball into fists as she struggled with the urge to cry and scream at the top of her lungs about his betrayal.

What would Raven think?

What would Octavia say? Was she in on it?

Was she supposed to say anything at all?

Thoughts flashed in her fried brain as she made her way into his private office, the one where he didn't hold shady conferences, apparently.

Her entrance was greeted with applause, from just about everyone in their inner circle.

“Griff, coming through!” Raven smirked, high fiving Clarke. “I knew you would.”

Murphy showcased a smirk through a split lip. “Griffin the Panty-Whisperer, finally out with some secrets.”

He was talking that way about _Lexa._

“You want a black eye to match that lip, John?” Clarke growled.

_Holy shit, where did that come from?_

Raven and Octavia grinned at each other.

It was Bellamy who broke Murphy’s shocked expression. “Clarke.” He grinned. “Nice. Don’t tell me she’s got you all toughened up?”

No, unfortunately, Clarke had become a hardened bitch all on her own.

Lexa was the only thing keeping her grounded, at that point.

“So, Carl Emerson.” Bellamy shook his head. “Can’t believe it. Bastard. How’d you find out, Clarke?”

Clarke froze, a lump in her throat. She’d been over this. What…. what was the story again?

Octavia jumped in to hug her at just the right time, accidentally changing the subject. “Who cares, you saved us some losses, Clarke.”

“That’s right.” Bellamy nodded. “And if Lexa wasn’t watching us like a god damned Grounder Hawk, I’d take you all out for rounds.”

Clarke felt something that tasted a lot like contempt in her mouth when Bellamy spoke. It was metallic and repulsive, like blood.

Raven sighed in disappointment. “Fucking grounders…keeping me from having a good time.”

“You and me both.” Clarke mumbled, mostly to herself, picturing Anya interrupting her and Lexa right outside the gym that one night.

When things were so much…simpler.

Clarke wanted to laugh at the irony.

“Well…Don’t cuss out the grounders just yet.” A familiar, chipper voice sounded from behind Clarke.

She whipped around, grinning at the sight.

Monty was holding a glass jug and several cups, with much difficulty balancing everything. Clarke ran to help him out.

“Everyone thank me…” Monty huffed out as he placed the full jug on the table, watching as they watched him with adoring grins. “Because Monty just brought the party to you.”

Murphy made a face. “Moonshine?” He scoffed amusedly. “Wouldn’t it be less painful to…I don’t know…drink out of the toilets?”

Raven smirked. “That was probably _made_ in a toilet.”

Clarke barked out a dry laugh at Monty’s feigned expression of hurt. “C’mon guys…” she lightened a little at the prospect of getting mind numbingly drunk.

Because that was a fantastic idea, when she had so much sensitive information to hide.

 _A little wouldn’t hurt_.

Monty doled out the glasses, eager for his friends to try the new recipe. Before the pungent liquid hit anyone’s lips, Bellamy cleared his throat, causing everyone to turn to him.

Rays of light had burned through thin slits in the blinds, illuminating parts of his face.

Clarke’s face remained completely shaded as she stepped out of the light. She didn’t want to face any light, just yet.

“To Clarke.” He raised his glass, and everyone’s side conversations fell silent. “For doing the right thing, and saving this family.”

“I didn’t-” Clarke’s protests were cut off.

“You _did_. You saved every one of us, and we’ll continue to bring the fight to Lexa and the Grounders!” Bellamy cheered.

“May she meet the same fate as Emerson!” Murphy threw in.

‘ _Fuck you all.’_ Clarke growled internally, feeling the rage within her threaten to spill over. She felt violently cheated, defenseless as her own family robbed her blind. How dare they assume they were taking the moral high ground, when their leader lied about the single most devastating fact of their lives? What else was he lying about and hiding?

Clarke felt sick to her stomach.

Octavia and Raven nodded their support, and Monty raised his cup in acknowledgement.

At those words, the thought of Lexa in that photo of Emerson instead, the gun in her hands…

Clarke tossed back the entire cup in a matter of seconds, ignoring the way it singed every fiber of her being and left her throat sore and aching.

“The Clarke Griffin we know is back!” Octavia cheered, tossing her drink back in a much slower fashion.

“Party-animal Griffin! Hell yeah!” Raven grinned.

Bellamy stepped forward, clasping Raven’s shoulder. “You make sure she gets home alright, Reyes.” He murmured out of Clarke’s range of hearing.

Raven looked conflicted. “I thought you were taking her? It’s movie night.” She reminded him gently.

“I know.” Bellamy sighed, running a hand through his mop of curly hair. “Something came up.”

“Your weird visitors, again?” Raven shot back incredulously, yet she kept her voice low.

Bellamy looked apologetic before disappearing into the conference rooms.

* * *

 

Clarke didn’t remember the outside of her apartment spinning so much.

…Did it always droop a little to the left?

“Easy, girl.” Raven cooed as she guided Clarke out of her car.

Clarke blinked, shaking her head. “S’fine, Ray. I’m fine.”

“Ha! You sound wasted.” Raven clicked her tongue. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“Buy me dinner first.” Clarke’s response came out less sarcastic and more whiney than she’d intended. “Isn’t it movie night?” She spoke slowly, trying to articulate and perhaps overcompensating.

Raven looked away unsurely, glad Clarke wasn’t sober enough to catch on. “Yup.” She sighed, taking slow steps with Clarke. “But looks like both Blakes are good at ditching us, lately.”

Clarke looked confused, and overly hurt. “Screw them. You were s’posed to hang with…O?” She rubbed her forehead, wincing a little.

How much had she had?

Raven nodded with a sigh.

Octavia had been way too eager to leave once Bellamy had, knowing that Raven was stranded with Clarke.

She glanced at a distant, parked motorcycle on the road and whistled. “Shit, Griff, hot new neighbor or something?”

Clarke looked mortified. “Mr. Petrelli isn’t hot, Ray. He’s like….Seventy-….five.” She completely thought Raven was referring to the senile old man who lived at least six apartments down, missing the motorcycle altogether.

Raven rolled her eyes. “My fault for asking a logical question to the wasted girl.”

Clarke bit her lip. “Mmm not wasted. Just…. buzzed.”

“Mhmm.” Raven shook her head. “Just like college.”

“Not like college.” Clarke pouted. “I’m a big girl now.”

“Yes you are.” Raven mocked. “So you don’t need my help getting changed and ready for bed?”

“Whaaat?” Clarke scoffed. “No.” She tried to keep her vision from swimming. “I’ve got this.”

She fumbled with her key in the lock for about two minutes before she leaned on it with a resigned sigh, stumbling when it opened under her weight.

She’d left it open?

Raven looked impressed. “Okay….?” She shrugged. “If you’re sober enough to do that, you’re probably good to sleep.”

“Thank you.” Clarke huffed indignantly, feeling suddenly hungry.

“I’ll catch you later, Griff?” Raven pulled her in for a light hug, and Clarke wrapped her arms around her.

“Hey….I need to tell you something.” Clarke whispered, tears threatening to spill over.

She needed to know.

“Clarke?” Raven sounded unsure. “You good?”

“Uh…yeah.” Clarke averted her gaze, suddenly unable to open her dry mouth. Unable to tell the truth, to conquer her demons and relive herself of the weight of Finn’s death. “I just wanted to say…Octavia will be back, Ray. Just give her some time.”

“I…uh…” Raven looked incredibly surprised. “Thanks, Clarke. Goodnight.”

“Night Reyes.” Clarke mumbled over her shoulder, hearing the door slam as she headed into the kitchen, turning on the lights.

She was not alone.

“Take this.” That voice.

Clarke thought she was hallucinating. But no, there she was, sitting comfortably on Clarke’s kitchen counter, in a sweater and a collared shirt underneath it, ever so businesslike.

“…Lexa?” Clarke sputtered, taking a step back in surprise. “Christ! Are you trying to scare me to death?”

She was offering water and pills to Clarke, an amused smile on her lips. “I tried not alarm you too much…”

Clarke felt her heart rate spike still. Her heart was never at ease with Lexa around.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice sounded reproachful. “Don’t tell me you were about to make dinner for yourself.”

“You…. are….in my apartment…” Clarke breathed, suddenly feeling a rush of sobriety.

“I am.” Lexa looked at her quizzically. “Good to see you’re not _that_ inebriated.”

“ _Inebriated_?” That was a hell of a word for a heavy tongue. “Lexa, I’m fine.” Clarke assured her with a hard blink.

“Mmm.” Lexa’s response was throaty, and Clarke felt an ever familiar heat between her thighs.

“Not..that I don’t love having you…” Clarke mumbled as she threw the pills back. “But…why?”

“I had actually come to check on you.” Lexa admitted mildly. “But it seems you found your own coping methods.”

Clarke sighed. “Sometimes forgetting is better.” She grumbled, turning to the stove.

“Whoa.” Lexa hopped off the counter, going to stand in front of Clarke defensively. “No fire for you, Clarke.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, _Commander_.” Clarke grumbled in an annoyed pitch.

“Mockery is not the-”

“ _Product of a strong mind, Clarke_.” Clarke stuck her tongue out at her childishly, at which Lexa rolled her eyes.

“I will make you something.” Lexa sighed, guiding Clarke to the kitchen table. “You’re a mess.”

Clarke looked hurt. She pouted adorably, bottom lip jutting out.

“A _beautiful_ mess.” Lexa added gently, and Clarke gazed at her as if she were the sun and the stars. “Just…. have a seat.”

Clarke did as she was told, figuring she’d get a meal out of very minimal effort.

Lexa worked on heating something- was that soup? Clarke hardly paid any attention to the food.

Instead, her semi-intoxicated brain found Lexa’s body to be a much more interesting topic. Clarke’s eyes unabashedly roamed Lexa’s great marvel of a body, wondering what was hidden beneath that dapper looking sweater and shirt.

“Clarke?” Lexa piped up, placing the dish before her. She pulled a chair and sat beside Clarke, leaning her head on her elbow.

“Hmm?” Clarke hummed, eyes completely enraptured with Lexa’s lips.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Lexa’s eyes widened as she blushed immediately, glancing away, her silky brown hair falling between them from over her shoulder. “You’re drunk.”

Clarke shrugged, “Drunk people tell the truth.” She dug into her soup, occasionally chancing a glance at Lexa.

So she wasn’t that drunk. But a little liquid courage never hurt, did it?

“When does it go away, Lexa?” Clarke hardly whispered, eyes rather fixated on the soup.

“What, Clarke?” Lexa’s voice was low and even, trying to provide the support she knew Clarke so desperately needed.

“The pain.” Clarke murmured, eyes glazing with a certain sadness.

Silence.

Lexa listened to the quiet pitter-patter of rain falling on the roof. The first signs of new life. Rain was cathartic. Rain cleansed and rain forgave. It wasn’t even supposed to rain that evening.

“It doesn’t.” Lexa sighed resignedly, her gaze finding Clarke’s sadly. “But it subsides.”

“Why me?” Clarke asked gently, as if Lexa knew the answer.

“Why any of us?” Lexa responded stoically. “Be grateful, Clarke. It hurts more to lose than it does to take.”

“Why…why don’t I believe that?” Clarke asked dejectedly. “I did lose. I lost myself.”

“No…” Lexa shook her head, utilizing a delicate finger to tilt Clarke’s chin upwards. “That’s where you’re wrong. If you let this change you…then you lose.”

Clarke melted under Lexa’s emerald gaze, and when Lexa moved to cup her cheek, she leaned into the embrace, desperate for the warmth it caused her.

“We’ve both lost before.” Clarke could feel the unspoken dialogue between them.

It didn’t matter who they lost.

What mattered was that they themselves survived.

“Will you…stay?” Clarke asked shyly.

Lexa nodded, removing her hand from Clarke’s cheek gently. “You should rest, Clarke.”

Clarke stood, wobbly at first, trying not to die a little when she saw the way Lexa’s hands shot out to steady her.

“What exactly did you drink?” Lexa murmured amusedly, taking the empty bowl back to the sink.

“Nothing too bad. Just…Moonshine.” Clarke admitted sheepishly, motioning for Lexa to follow.

“Moonshine.” Lexa repeated, shaking her head. “I’m surprised you’re not dead.”

Clarke glanced at her. “Of all the reasons I could die…Moonshine? Really?”

“Let us not discuss your death, Clarke.” Lexa murmured. “I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Really.” Clarke muttered. “Anya would love this discussion.”

“Anya, cruel as she is, likes you.” Lexa admitted. “And I am only telling you this because you might forget it in the morning.”

Clarke smiled to herself, trying to forget the dull ache in her chest.

Lexa gave her space as she used the restroom to change, clumsily hitting the door a few times, prompting Lexa to worry further.

She came out in short shorts and a tight tank top, perhaps forgetting that she had an audience.

Lexa’s eyes quickly found the floor after catching sight of Clarke.

She was so beautiful and so good. Lexa couldn’t help but feel the attraction. She wasn’t just fit or breathtaking, but she was radiant. She gave Lexa joy and laughter, something she hadn’t felt since her last love.

Something she never thought she would feel again.

“Come.” Clarke slipped under the covers of her bed, patting the spot next to her.

It dawned on Clarke that Lexa might have been her only friend. She wasn’t allowed to connect with Raven and Octavia the way she used to. She despised Murphy. Monty was gone half the time. Finn was six feet under.

And Bellamy?

Bellamy Blake made Clarke’s fucking blood boil.

So that begged the question: What was Lexa Woods to Clarke Griffin? A friend? An incredibly attractive boss?

Clarke’s head ached too much to try and attempt that puzzle.

“You’re quite self-sufficient when you’re drunk.” Lexa commented wryly, lying beside Clarke over the covers, not daring to come any closer.

Clarke quirked a smile, watching the raindrops cling to her window pane. “I’m not drunk. And get under, I won’t have you freeze to death in my apartment.”

“Right.” Lexa smiled as well, unsure of what to do with her hands. She tucked them behind her head contentedly, listening to Clarke’s even breathing and the rain on the roof.

“Lexa.” Clarke sounded gently.

“Yes, Clarke?” Lexa wasn’t looking at her, knowing full well that Clarke’s eyes were tracing every feature of her face. Her cheeks burned.

Clarke made _everywhere_ burn.

“ _Wanheda_.” Clarke whispered softly, and Lexa’s eyes widened with initial shock. “What does it mean?”

“Clarke…” Lexa warned gently, her tone begging Clarke to drop it.

“Lexa.” Clarke sighed in response.

“You shouldn’t have to-”

“I want to know…”

“Clarke, I-” evasion was futile.

“Lexa, please.” Clarke turned on her side to face Lexa fully, her blue eyes alight with curiosity and pain, torture and life all at once.

Lexa longed to take her pain away, to make her whole again.

Silence.

The rain came down harder, beating the streets below with great anger, while the wind picked up, carrying swirling howls of remorse and suffering.

Lexa relented, eyes meeting Clarke’s pools of blue with a sigh.

“It’s a title. It means…The Commander of Death.”

Clarke’s eyes were teary once more.

Lexa laced her hand with Clarke’s eliciting a sigh of surprise from the girl.

“I mean, that’s what I am now, right?” Clarke’s voice felt thick and heavy in her throat, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into a puddle of tears.

She kept it together because of Lexa.

Lexa sat up, eying their entwined fingers with a thoughtful, warm gaze. “I would disagree.”

“You would?” Clarke’s voice was raw, vulnerable, unsure of its own existence.

“You’re a healer, Clarke.” Lexa’s words were sage, calm and soothing to Clarke’s open, wounded heart.

“Being a doctor doesn’t make you a good person.” Clarke half whispered.

“I wasn’t talking about being a doctor.” Lexa murmured quietly. “You heal people.” _You healed me._

Clarke at up, eyes locking with Lexa’s soft gaze, an unspoken “thank you” passing between the two young girls.

Lexa gave Clarke’s hand a squeeze, wanting to put it against her own heart to show Clarke the effect she had on the commander.

Instead, she offered Clarke a shy smile when Clarke whispered a gentle, “Reshop, _Heda._ ”

“Goodnight, Doctor.” Lexa’s whisper was sullen and reserved as she bowed out gently, seeming determined on sleeping on Clarke’s couch.

 

* * *

 

“You’re already up?” Clarke’s grumble sounded off from behind Lexa as she spun around to greet the girl.

Lexa smirked. “Already? It’s ten, Clarke.”

Clarke frowned, clutching her temples. Lexa struggled not to look at her tight outfit, feeling her breath catching in her throat. She’d changed into workout tights, and they were nothing if not complimentary.

“I was going to go for a jog, but…” Clarke shook her head. “I think the Moonshine wins this round.”

Lexa gave her a mild look of concern before handing her a plate of eggs, sunny side up.

Clarke gaped. “You? You made breakfast?”

Lexa blinked. “Yes?”

Clarke smirked, and suddenly Lexa felt heat rise to her cheeks. “You’d make an excellent housewife, Lexa.”

Lexa bristled at that, but Clarke had already accepted the plate with a small thank you, and a kiss on the cheek that smelled sweetly of mint, before turning to start on her breakfast.

“I….Ugh.” Lexa muttered, wishing she had some control over her body’s ridiculous blushing display.

“You stayed.” Clarke smiled through a bite, earning her an amused look from Lexa. “I guess…I command the commander.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Doctor Griffin.” Lexa rolled her eyes. _Of course I stayed._

“Do you…have any plans today, Clarke?” Lexa began gently, shyly, like a schoolgirl asking her crush on a date.

Clarke lifted a brow. “Uh…work? At, like, your company…? Which…we’re late for, by the way.”

Lexa needed to keep Clarke out of Anya’s hair, for the day at least. “I have a better idea.” Lexa smirked, announcing it aloud. “You still have some anger left in you, yes?”

Clarke blinked. “I don’t think that’s going anywhere anytime soon, Lexa.”

“Excellent.” Lexa nodded. “I think I have the right form of therapy, if you’re interested?”

 

* * *

 

“A shooting range?” Clarke gaped, repeating the same three words for the thousandth time since they’d arrived.

“A private one.” Lexa tutted as she grabbed a box, setting it down before a countertop in front of what looked like a glass cubicle, to Clarke. Except, the front of the “cubicle” was open to a long, narrow row, with paper targets towards the end, in the shape of faceless people.

The whole setup made Clarke incredibly uncomfortable.

“Why?” Clarke sighed, watching as Lexa’s deft hands seemingly pulled apart a black pistol.

“If Roan is here, things are more serious than I thought.” Lexa responded gently, eyes fixated on the unloaded weapon in her hands.

“But…I don’t fight.” Clarke murmured. “Why would that change?”

Maybe that wasn’t what changed. Maybe what changed, and was still changing was Lexa’s increasing affections for Clarke. Her increasing fears of losing her.

But of course, that would never be verbalized.

“You told me you felt like a useless pawn.” Lexa reprimanded. “Make yourself a queen.”

“By killing things?” Clarke shook her head vigorously. “Lexa, no.”

“The gun is, at best, a weapon of self defense.” Lexa countered.

“Ha! Tell that to the people I stitch up at the hospital.” Clarke barked out a wry laugh.

Lexa knew this had to do with Emerson. “I saw you take Lincoln’s gun. You weren’t too far off, Clarke. You need guidance.”

Lexa finished loading up the magazine, sticking it into the gun with a satisfied huff. Keeping the gun pointed forward, she turned to Clarke. “This…” she turned the gun slightly. “Is a pistol.”

“I have eyes, don’t I?” Clarke retorted sourly.

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Patience, Clarke. It is a 9 millimeter Glock, if that means anything to you.”

“It kills people.” Clarke shrugged her fears away. “What difference does it make what we name it?”

“ _I_ kill people.” Lexa commented sharply, causing Clarke to suck in a nervous breath. “This is merely a tool. One you will learn to use.”

“Lexa, I don’t….” Clarke shook her head, but Lexa held her hand up, silencing her. “Safety glasses, Clarke. And earmuffs. Now.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Or what? You’ll shoot me?”

“Don’t be a child, Clarke.” Lexa rolled her eyes in exasperation.

She and Clarke both geared up.

“Now, watch the way I position myself and handle the gun. Three shots. Okay?” Lexa announced loudly.

Clarke bit her lip, nodding.

Lexa took in a breath, and in one swift motion, with both hands, lifted the gun and fired off three shots. The shots were fucking loud, especially within the closed confines of the indoor range.

Even with the ear protection, Clarke jumped at each one. Lexa turned to her, motioning her forward.

Shakily, Clarke came forward, swallowing her fear. She needed to do this.

What if it came down to Lexa in danger? Clarke needed to have this knowledge.

“Clarke, arms forward…” Lexa murmured, realizing Clarke couldn’t really hear her. She stepped behind Clarke, arms gently guiding Clarke’s own as she straightened Clarke’s form.

She was unfortunately unable to hear Clarke’s breath hitch in her throat. She gave Clarke two affirmative taps, and off she went.

The first was a decent hit, at least on the paper target.  

She got excited, and then squealed in disappointment when the second one fell below.

“Focus, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, mostly to herself, as Clarke fired the third shot.

It landed well within the left chest area, earning Clarke a grin from Lexa.

Clarke set the safety and set the gun down, turning to Lexa. She removed her glasses and earmuffs and announced, “I’m already a pro!”

Lexa winced but offered an amused grin in Clarke’s direction, removing her equipment as well.

“What’s next?” Clarke smirked.

“A little bit of an adrenaline rush, there?” Lexa teased, stepping forward to retrieve the targets.

“Teach me to fight.” Clarke decided, suddenly.

Lexa whipped around. “Planning on challenging someone?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “No, but…I’ve seen you and Anya…. It’s beautiful…. it’s powerful.” She breathed the last part with a look of want in her eye.

“It’s painful.” Lexa sighed. “Years upon years of practice got us there.”

Clarke pressed on. “I need to be able to defend myself…. from Roan.” She added, as if that would add to her argument.

Lexa’s eyes widened. “Then you’d be practicing for at least another few decades, Clarke. Roan is…unlike anything I’ve seen.”

“Really?” Clarke frowned. “Better than you?”

Lexa smirked. “No one is better than I am.”

“I might be.” Clarke teased. “How would you know?” She made a motion to lightly bat Lexa over the shoulder when she turned, but she wheeled around, catching Clarke’s wrist in the air and gently pushing her against the back wall.

“Oh…” Clarke breathed, gazing down at Lexa’s lips. “That’s a good answer.” She was breathless, hand pinned against the wall.

“Mhmm.” Lexa hummed, eyes locked on Clarke’s soft, inviting lips.

They were silent for a moment, both thinking about completely attacking the other, lips heatedly locking, clothes torn to the floor.

They both broke contact at the same time.

“Well…” Clarke huffed dejectedly. “How can I protect you?”

Lexa’s heart melted. Clarke wanted to protect _her?_ How could she ever have thought Clarke was anything less than an angel.

“Clarke....” Lexa’s voice was soft. “What would I do…if I lost you?”

“You won’t.” Clarke assured, giving her a soft smile. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

 _Never._ Lexa thought to herself. All the feelings she had to deny, to suppress, to hide from Clarke because if she acted upon them, Clarke could well have ended up like Emerson.

What a mess. A beautiful, ridiculous mess.

* * *

 

The wind carried a sort of vanilla scent from Lexa’s billowing hair to Clarke’s nose, and Clarke felt herself weaken even more for the girl, if that was possible.

The two had stopped to get lunch, Lexa’s treat.

Clarke tried not to think of their “first date”, but it was incredibly difficult when all Lexa chose were incredibly fine rooftop styled restaurants.

Clarke didn’t even know D.C. had so many roofs.

“Is it too windy?” Lexa murmured, eyeing Clarke as she sipped her drink.

The two hadn’t stopped smiling all day, and if Anya or Raven were there, they’d call it sickening.

“What, can you command the wind to stop? I wouldn’t be surprised.” Clarke teased, earning an affectionate glare from the brunette beauty.

“No, but we can move inside.” Lexa offered.

“And dine with…normal people? Instead of our own private Lexa Woods VIP balcony?” Clarke scoffed. “Hardly.”

Lexa let out an amused chuckle, and it was the cutest thing Clarke had ever seen. “You seem…better. Than before.” She spoke gently.

“You make it better, Lexa.” Clarke murmured, eyeing the so called commander with such intense affection that she felt she needed air afterwards.

Lexa blushed heavily and smiled genuinely in response, feeling a lot less like the commander and lot more like the twenty-five-year-old she was.

“You know…” Clarke began, eyes wandering down the fine trail of Lexa’s mouth, then flitting back to her gaze nervously. “Sometimes I wonder…what would’ve happened if I hadn’t bumped into you at the law office that day. Would we have been enemies?”

“We were, by nature, I suppose.” Lexa admitted unsurely. The thought of not knowing Clarke made her stomach churn. Not knowing her soft smiles, her husky voice, her dedication to mending people’s problems and broken hearts…She couldn’t possibly imagine it.

“Would you have gone all Commander on me and knocked me flat on my ass?” Clarke teased, and Lexa found herself a bit warm, despite the breeze. The Clarke she knew was coming back to her.

“Oh, surely not. You’d be a lowly doctor. Hardly anyone worth lifting a finger against.” Lexa shrugged, putting on a nonchalant expression. “Maybe I’d send Gustus to do it.”

“Oh, please, one look at this…” Clarke motioned to herself, batting her eyelashes for extra effect, “and you’d be on your knees.”

“True.” Lexa nodded.

Clarke choked on her water, and Lexa offered her a smirk. She hadn’t expected that to go on without at least a little resistance.

Lexa didn’t feel like hiding that particular truth.

“Or, maybe…” Lexa trailed off with a wistful sigh. “We could have been high school sweethearts.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at Lexa’s faux romanticism. “Oh, please. You went to military school. I doubt you had any sweethearts.”

“I did.” Lexa nodded. “Also…I was friends with your dearest…Bellamy, at one point or another.”

“So I’ve heard.” Clarke let out a low whistle. “But…I don’t want to talk about Bellamy. I want to hear all about _you._ ”

Lexa shifted in her seat. Clarke noted her discomfort and leapt at the opportunity. “What? High school is always a lot worse than we remember.”

Lexa rolled her eyes. “I was straight laced.”

“Surprise surprise.” Clarke muttered with amusement.

Lexa ignored her. “I had perfect grades…they meant everything to me, to my mother and father especially. A testament to my perfection…my addition to the great Woods family, if you will.”

Clarke nodded, wishing she could have met the pure, innocent Lexa Woods of the past. Not that she wasn’t entirely taken with the current rendition, but…she’d have given anything just to see her.

“I was a party girl.” Clarke added, noting that Lexa was slowing down.

“Oh yeah?” Lexa thanked the waiter who brought two intricate plates of sushi before them, eyes fixed on Clarke the whole time. “Before or after med school?”

“After Bellamy convinced his parents to…foster me, in a way. I lost contact with my mother, who…well, the love between us almost died when my father was arrested. And when he died…well, that did it for her.”

Lexa’s eyes widened slightly as she schooled her expression. She never knew Clarke had endured so much.

“The Blake name became my name. I lost contact with my mother, Octavia and Bellamy became my family…and Clarke Griffin died, for a little while. It took a lot of self-reflection to get her back.” Clarke’s voice went cold towards the end. “Even though…I almost lost her again, it seems, with all that’s happened…”

Lexa glanced down, unable to feel anything but partially responsible.

“I’m a mess.” Clarke murmured with a sad smile, chopsticks readied in her hand.

Lexa put a gentle hand on Clarke’s knee under the table, causing both girls to radiate warmth and press gently towards each other, gravitating across the space of the table.

“A beautiful mess.” Lexa’s familiar words were soft, barely making it to Clarke’s ears across the breeze.

But she heard.

* * *

 

“Lincoln!” Octavia laughed, snatching her hand back from Lincoln’s grasp, where he’d been planting kisses to each of her knuckles. “We’re in public.”

Lincoln let out a chuckle, taking in Octavia in the buzz of the brightly lit restaurant. “We don’t have to be…”

“Yes, we do.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “I’m starving. And we never get to do this. Why is today an exception, again?”

“Hmm, let’s see…because your brother is in meetings all day, and Lexa is out with Clarke.” Lincoln grinned.

“Oh…right.” Octavia nodded. “So, you think that’s going anywhere?”

“I haven’t seen Lexa quite like that in a while…” Lincoln murmured thoughtfully. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“Well it’s not Clarke, apparently. Girl can’t make a move to save her life.” Octavia muttered between a bite of a bread roll.

Lincoln shook his head. “I don’t think Lexa would let her in, anyway.”

Octavia raised a brow. “You saying my girl doesn’t have enough game? Have you seen Clarke? I mean, for fucks sake, she’s a doctor. A hot doctor.”

Lincoln laughed as he took a sip of his drink. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Clarke. I just don’t think Lexa…falls for people.” He shrugged. “Not in a while, anyway.”

“Fifty bucks.” Octavia grinned.

“What?” Lincoln furrowed his brow.

“Fifty bucks says they’ll get together before the end of the year.” Octavia pressed excitedly.

Lincoln eyed the brunette beauty tentatively. “Wait…do hookups count?”

“No.” Octavia smirked. “Full on love.”

“Oh, you’re so on, princess.” Lincoln matched her grin, leaning forward to take her soft lips into his delicately.

“Lincoln!” Octavia scolded, quickly returning the kiss before sitting down.

“Speaking of our fine friends...” Octavia muttered. “I’ve been…thinking, lately.”

“Uh oh…” Lincoln’s expression turned to one of concern. “What’s this about?”

“Do you ever think that…well…I don’t know, maybe I’m just being stupid.” Octavia’s blue gaze fell to her salad absently.

“No…” Lincoln shook his head, taking her hand in his. “Talk to me, Octavia. You know I care.”

Octavia glanced up at him lovingly, her heart swelling. “I just…what if we’re forced to choose.”

“Between Clarke and Lexa?” Lincoln looked surprised.

“No.” Octavia shook her head. “I don’t know about Clarke anymore. I was…talking about Bellamy and Lexa.”

Lincoln sucked in a breath in surprise. “Uh…Oh.” He nodded slowly. “I’ve thought about this too.”

“I mean…it’s inevitable, right?” Octavia sighed. “How long until we become liabilities…and…Lincoln, I don’t think I could take not seeing you anymore…”

“Hey…” Lincoln leaned forward, caressing her cheek with his hand. “Don’t say that. It won’t come to that.”

Octavia looked miserable. “How can you be sure?” She breathed. “I mean…we can hardly meet without it causing a third world war. Linc…I’m not ready to let go.”

“Then hold onto me, Octavia.” Lincoln murmured, offering a reassuring smile. “One way or another, up or down…. together. We’ll face it together.”

Octavia smiled into his palm, feeling suddenly at peace.

It wasn’t much of a resolution, but it was all she needed.

“Together.” She whispered happily.

Little did they know of the storm that was brewing, coming to tear them apart.

“I can’t believe it.” Anya growled to herself as she peeled her eyes away from the disgustingly saccharine scene in the window from outside the restaurant. “Gustus, let’s go. _Heda_ will be waiting.”

No broken bone that Anya had ever endured hurt more than a broken heart

Little did she know that somewhere, not too far away, someone else was facing a similar, aching sense of betrayal.

Raven Reyes was a witness to the scene as well, anger and contempt boiling inside her chest.

It seemed the two had more in common in that moment than either would ever admit.

* * *

 

“How are we on the recent attacks?” Bellamy asked in a pleased tone, pouring himself a glass of scotch.

“Well, actually.” Murphy commented from his seat. “We fucked them up pretty badly. They’re goners without Emerson.”

“Good.” Bellamy nodded, turning to face his guest of the hour. “All thanks to you, my friend.”

The man smiled in his seat, stroking his stubble with a pleased look. His long, dark hair fell around his shoulders, almost covering the thick, bubbled scars on the surface of his face. His eyes were narrowed, and he resembled a lion stalking its prey. “For that kind of a deal? My pleasure.”

Bellamy Blake was not prey.

“Roan, try not to act like you enjoyed that savagery.” Nia tutted from her chair beside her son, the tension between the two quite obvious.

“But I did, mother.” Roan’s voice was poisonous. “If Bellamy hadn’t offered me such an…enticing reward, I wouldn’t have graced you with my presence at all.”

Nia narrowed her cold, icy eyes. “Roan, the company is mine. Ontari may have fled upon hearing of your involvement, and can you blame her? But the share will be mine.”

Roan let out a dry laugh, rocking back in his chair, placing his dirty shoes up on the conference table. “Relax, old woman. I’m not after the company. It’s the…territory, I’m after.”

“We don’t have anything yet.” Murphy grumbled under his breath, “so let’s shut up and focus.”

Bellamy shot him a glare before continuing, slowly and articulately.

“But let’s focus on the real issues.” Bellamy smiled proudly. “I’d like you all to meet my girlfriend…some of you, not for the first time.”

Murphy’s eyes widened as he sat up a little straighter in his chair, having never met Bellamy’s girlfriend before. None of the inner circle had.

A beautiful blonde entered the room at that point, almost like Clarke. She was tall, with a thin, delicate frame, and curious blue eyes. Her full lips were drawn into a smile as she took her seat beside Bellamy, lacing her hands with his.

“This is Costia.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...that was the transition chapter. Hopefully it flowed naturally and you're all ready for the next big story arc!
> 
> I'm at Effortlessly-Opulent on Tumblr (For story-related gifs, art, discussion, and chatting ;)
> 
> Thank you very much, as always, for reading and leaving such amazing comments and kudos. It means the world to me and of course I always end up updating a lot sooner because of it. (Sunday's the next one!) 
> 
> ...(sorry about no other updates today- I had very limited time- maybe a fake dating update tomorrow or Saturday?)


	12. I Hold You In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke learns who Anya was on the phone with. Lincoln and Octavia get backlash for their actions. Bellamy enacts a plan to have Lexa killed.

The evening air was chilling, but Lexa’s emerald gaze was soft and warm. An entire week since Clarke and Lexa had gone shooting. An entire week of odd silence from Anya. An entire week of avoidance from Raven. An entire week of Bellamy lost in his meetings.

A week since Ontari fled at the news, from her mother, that Roan was in town.

Clarke had to wonder who the hell Roan Queen was, if Ontari feared him.

But, at the very least, Lexa was now fully Clarke’s to bother at work.

“Lexa, where are we going?” Clarke grumbled, rubbing her hands together furiously to create some sense of warmth and feeling. “It’s freezing. We just got off work…I’m tired.”

Lexa glanced at Clarke, and then took off her jacket, and Clarke wished that once, just once, she’d not be such a romantic.

It made it very hard to hate her. Which Clarke figured would be easier than…any other alternative.

Lexa stopped, turning to Clarke to help drape the jacket over her shoulders. “Here.” She murmured.

“Lexa no…” Clarke sighed, catching her hand in midair. “I can’t deprive you of things like this. That’s not something you should have to for…me.” Clarke had trouble verbalizing much of anything around her after their intense bond, the shooting, and the lunch.

“You’re right.” Lexa spoke lowly, “I shouldn’t _have_ to do anything for you. But seeing you shiver…” she left the jacket over Clarke’s shoulders, returning to walk by her side. “-Is the worst form of torture. Besides, I did this of my own volition, Clarke. No one’s forcing my hand.”

Clarke nodded slowly, breathing steadily as they headed for Lexa’s car.  

She decided that she’d never need her own car, the way everyone always seemed to come after her, anyway.  

“Lexa, where the hell are we going?” Clarke grumbled with a huff once more, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Clarke.” Lexa sighed, putting a hand on top of hers.

Clarke froze, heart hammering. She hated how being with Lexa did this to her.

Okay…she _might_ have loved it.

“Do you trust me?” Lexa asked, voice raw with emotion and a softness that Clarke had seen before.

“With my life.” Clarke murmured, eyes glancing anywhere but into Lexa’s gaze.

“Then just…trust that we’re going somewhere safe. And important.” Lexa replied, removing her hand from Clarke’s to turn the engine on.

“That’s…vague.” Clarke replied numbly, turning on the sound system with an odd sort of anticipation.

Lexa’s amused smile was not lost on Clarke.

“What?” Clarke asked defensively, trying to focus on the engine roaring to life, or the now blurred pavement moving under them.

“You like track thirteen.” Lexa mused gently. “You always put that one on…perhaps subconsciously, even.”

“Yeah…” Clarke breathed, leaning back into the luxurious leather, taking in the faint scent of Lexa’s perfume. “I guess I do. This one’s famous though. It’s from that movie about that French girl. What’s it called again?”

“ _Comptine d'un autre été_.” Lexa’s accent was effortless.

Clarke felt an inappropriate rush of heat at Lexa’s words. “You speak French?” Clarke asked suddenly.

Lexa smirked. “I am a business woman, Clarke. I learn the basics of many languages.”

“So vague.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “I took French in high school.”

“Oh?” Lexa raised a brow. “A sample, perhaps?”

Clarke smirked, leaning over in her seat. “It was high school. All we cared about was dating. I remember….” She leaned over to whisper in Lexa’s ear. “ _Je te veux_.”

Lexa’s breath hitched in her throat, and she focused intently on keeping the wheel in line. Was Clarke trying to give her a heart attack?

“But uh…” Clarke leaned back, shrugging with a nonchalant smile. “That was then. I’ve learned a lot.”

“Right.” Lexa nodded slowly. “That’s good.”

“So…” Clarke drawled. “Where are we going? I don’t suppose you’ve booked another reservation at _La Montagne_ anytime soon?”

Lexa shook her head. Memories of their last evening their flooded her mind. How foolish they’d both been. How intoxicated, and not merely from champagne or other drinks. From something else entirely.

“We are…” Lexa paused for a moment as she turned the car to the left, pulling into the parking lot of an expensive looking hotel. “Meeting someone.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed as she glanced down. “I’m in my uniform.” She protested, wishing, for some reason, that she’d dressed up. She wasn’t sure why, but she imagined Lexa’s mystery friend to be a beautiful girl, someone that she couldn’t compete with.

Another vicious, evil Ontari.

Clarke had just survived the first, and hopefully only one. Another just would’ve been cruel.

“Actually, that’ll be fine.” Lexa murmured. “Anything you wear suits you, Clarke.”

Clarke blushed heavily, suddenly feeling as if she were on cloud nine. Lexa always did that to her.

And again, maybe she secretly enjoyed it.

“Come.” Lexa shifted out of the car, coming around to get Clarke’s door.

“Oh…” Clarke murmured gently. “Thank you…” she was shocked by Lexa’s manners, even though they were nothing new.

Clarke’s eyes took in the immense building, with a beautiful fountain in front of the main entrance, people coming and going through the garden-like walkway.

“Are you…expecting someone from out of town?” Clarke asked gently, arm brushing against Lexa’s as they made their way to the main entrance.

“I am.” Lexa admitted. “Anya has been in contact with her for a very long time. Wait here for a moment.”

Clarke did as she was told, mind racing. Was this Lexa’s old flame? Her ex? Was Lexa married before? Oh, god…did Lexa have a child? Clarke liked children. But when did she have the time?

“Clarke?” Lexa called her gently, and Clarke weaved her way in an out of crowds of people into the main lobby, glittering with extravagant chandeliers and plants in every corner.

“Uh…” Clarke began as Lexa gently tugged her into the elevator. “We’re not meeting this mystery person in the lobby?”

Lexa bit her lip softly, shaking her head. “No. She has invited us up to her room.”

Clarke felt herself riddled with questions and anxiety.

But she trusted Lexa.

“Clarke?” Lexa asked gently, her eyes following Clarke’s gaze to where the elevator needle was ascending past each number.

“Sorry.” Clarke sighed, shaking her head. “I’m just…feeling a bit off.” She lied.

Lexa offered her a soft smile, and the world stopped turning when she slipped her delicate hand inside Clarke’s, squeezing gently.

And she kept holding on. Kept anchoring Clarke to the earth, refusing to let her float away.

Clarke’s next words were interrupted by the ding of the elevator bell, warning them that they had reached the appropriate floor.

“Room 507.” Lexa murmured, hand in Clarke’s as she led her down a lavishly carpeted hall with cakelike walls with frosted white edges, and a high ceiling separating them from the next floor.

“What do I do?” Clarke asked anxiously, and Lexa gave her a gentle nudge as they reached the door.

“Knock.”

Clarke balled her free hand into a fist as she took a breath and rapped on the door gently.

Silence.

One second.

“Lexa?”

“Patience, Clarke.”

Another second.

Nothing.

“Lexa?”

“I’m here, Clarke.”

The door swung open, revealing a middle aged blonde woman with kind yet fiery eyes and a blonde braid. She extended her arms with a sudden gasp upon seeing Clarke. “Clarke…” She breathed gently, eyes immediately watering.

“Mom?” Clarke looked stunned as her body, without her mind’s consent, launched herself into her estranged mother’s arms.

“Clarke, baby, my god…look at you!” Abby was in tears, taking a reluctant step back to take Clarke in completely. “My god….” She repeated gently. “You’re so beautiful, Clarke.”

Clarke had tears in her eyes as she felt her hand ache for Lexa’s.

 _Lexa_.

Clarke tense, whirling around. Where did she go?

“I’m here, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was soft, kind to Clarke’s vulnerable state.

Abby seemed to notice Clarke’s horror at the thought of the brunette girl suddenly leaving.

“And you must be Lexa Woods.” Abby’s smile was genuine. She put her hand out, and Lexa shook it firmly, professionally.

“I am.” Lexa nodded curtly.

“And you are…” Abby began, unsure of how to finish.

Clarke’s eyes flashed. “Oh, no. You don’t get to strong-arm her for answers. She’s here for _me_ , not you.”

Abby sighed, putting her hands up. “Still have that fire in you, huh? Good. Well. Please, come in. We…we have a lot to talk about.”

She seemed to understand Clarke and Lexa needed space, as she left the door wide open and headed back into the luxurious suite.

Clarke turned, cheeks burning and eyes glossy. “I’m…how did you…I can’t believe…”

“Mine are gone, Clarke.” Lexa’s words seemed hollow. “Don’t squander an opportunity to make peace.”

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat. “You…you found her? You did this?”

Lexa nodded slowly, clearing her throat guiltily. “I…I understand that you may feel I have overstepped my boundaries, but I saw the way you-”

“Lexa.” Clarke breathed, taking a step forward. She cupped Lexa’s cheeks, and in a motion of pure appreciation and adoration, pressed a kiss to her forehead.

It was different than a kiss on the lips. It signified another love entirely. A different bond, a different connection. Just as powerful.

Lexa looked as stunned as Clarke had when Abby opened the door. She closed her eyes, taking in the feeling Clarke gave her. She hadn’t felt that way in a very, very long time.

“Thank you.” Clarke whispered gently.

Lexa nodded, her throat feeling dry. “I…I will wait for you, down in the lobby. As long as it takes…I promise.”

Clarke shook her head, grabbing Lexa’s arm. “No…stay.”

Lexa furrowed her brow. “Clarke…”

“No, I…please. I want you to be here.” Clarke’s voice had a tinge of vulnerability and fear that Lexa couldn’t help but feel responsible for.

“As you wish.”

* * *

 

“Where to start…so you’re a doctor, now?” Abby’s voice was tinged with emotion as she sat across Clarke and Lexa in the suite’s main room.

“I…yeah.” Clarke nodded gently. “I work…for Lexa.”

Abby’s voice filled with pride. “You? Work for Lexa Woods? My god…as someone in the industry…that’s just…unbelievable.”

Lexa bowed her head in humility while Clarke held Abby’s gaze.

“So where do you live?” Abby asked gently, hoping the question wasn’t too much.

“My apartment. Split right down between the east and west side.” Clarke responded numbly.

“Oh.” Abby nodded, biting her lip, as if debating her next question. “And you and Lexa are…”

“Mom.” Clarke shook her head, feeling Lexa tense slightly against her. “Please.”

Abby apologized, then.

“Something tells me you didn’t come all the way back here to catch up.” Clarke sighed, watching Lexa size up Abby from the corner of her gaze.

“I…didn’t.” Abby admitted, leaning back in her seat nervously. “When Lexa first contacted me and told me she knew you…I just…I just knew we had to try and fix things.”

“Fix things?” Clarke scoffed.

“Clarke, you don’t-”

“Fix things?” Clarke repeated loudly, angrily.

“Clarke.” Lexa whispered, and Clarke was immediately sedated by her warning.

“Clarke, I know things weren’t ideal, but-”

“Weren’t ideal?” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Understatement of the century, mom.”

“Clarke, that’s hardly fair. What your father did…it hit me hard, too.” Abby protested weakly.

“Mom, we were living in a different state.” Clarke seethed, in a softly angry sort of way. “And you ignored me. Forgot me. Started dedicating all your time to work, and becoming head surgeon…you left me no choice.”

Lexa’s heart ached at hearing the words coming from Clarke’s lips.

“You didn’t have to run.” Abby’s silent protest came.

“I did.” Clarke shook her head. “If you never came here on that visit to dad, and I never ran away to Bellamy’s, who knows what would’ve happened! I needed a family! And I got an imprisoned ex politician of a father and a mother who forgot I existed.” She fumed now, shaking.

Lexa put a hand on her back to steady her.

Abby looked down. “I…I let you stay with the Blakes, because I thought it was what was best. But…Clarke, I…I tried. I supported you. I paid for your medical schooling. I did everything I could without interrupting your life…”

Clarke had tears in her eyes. “That was you?” All this time, she’d been under the impression one of the late Blake parents had paid for her schooling.

It was Abby, all along.

“Mom…” Clarke shook her head, bottom lip quivering.

“Clarke.” Abby sighed, looking incredibly upset. “I’m…I’m so glad that life with the Blakes has changed you. You…my baby…you’re all grown up.”

Clarke wanted to let out a bitter laugh.

Life with the Blakes changed her, alright.

They made her into the fucking mess she was.

“Listen…” Clarke sucked in a breath. “I…this is too much. I’m not ready, just yet…”

Abby nodded eagerly. “Clarke…listen. The silence…it’s gone on for far too long. I…we need to be in each other’s lives. I want to be there when you get married…” she shot a cautious glance at Lexa, who’d been sitting with one hand on Clarke’s back. “…when you have children…”

“Whoa, mom, enough!” Clarke protested.

“What I’m trying to say is…I’ll be here. Lexa and I arranged my stay here for a few weeks…and I know…you’ll want some time, but…I got a local job for now and…just know, I’m here, Clarke.” Abby finished softly.

“I…thanks, mom.” Clarke murmured, all the information perhaps a bit much for her. She stood, Lexa at her side in an instant.

“We’ll be seeing you, Mrs. Griffin.” Lexa dipped her head respectfully before she pressed a gentle hand to Clarke’s back, guiding her out of the room.

“Lexa, wait. A word?” Abby pressed.

Clarke hadn’t heard, somewhat shakily making her way out of the door.

Lexa straightened, turning around to face Abby, looking somewhat apprehensive. “Mrs. Griffin…I really don’t think we should be-”

Abby cut her off, formalities dissolved without Clarke’s presence. “You love her.”

Lexa’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped, an involuntary gasp filling the air. “Mrs. Griffin?” She blinked. “I…I-”

“-Don’t bother lying to me, Lexa.” Abby’s voice was stern, hard, aching to protect her daughter. “I can see it in your eyes. In the way you hover over her. The way you touch her.”

Lexa felt her throat dry. This was Costia all over again. She blinked. “I…apologize, Mrs. Griffin, but…”

Abby shook her head, taking a step into Lexa’s personal space, likely not aware of the physical damage Lexa was capable of. She asserted her authority. “Don’t you dare, Lexa. Don’t you dare back away from her and leave her alone. I don’t know what’s been going on in her life, but I still know my daughter. And Clarke doesn’t trust just anyone. You must be…special.”

Lexa blinked away any emotion.

“Swear it.” Abby pressed. “swear you won’t hurt her. That you’ll protect her.”

Lexa nodded slowly, voice finding its way back to her. “I…I swear it. Clarke already knows that.”

Abby nodded, taking a step back, clearly satisfied. As Lexa turned to leave, she heard Abby murmur, “Love is hard to find, and harder to keep, Lexa. Protect it.”

Lexa had never felt more uncomfortable in her life.

* * *

 

“ _Ai hod you in.”_ Lincoln murmured gently, laying in his bed, Octavia wrapped up in his arms. His eyes flashed with warmth.

The soft linen of the sheets cradled their bodies together in a soft bundle of warmth.

“I…hold you in.” Octavia nodded with understanding, her soft smile growing as she felt the effects of his warmth, his words touching her to her core. “That’s…beautiful.”

“Lexa taught us all.” Lincoln informed her, pressing gentle kisses to forehead. “It’s from the Woods family, generations ago.”

Light flickered in from his window, the clouds just barely allowing any light at all.

A storm was coming. The heat, the electricity…it was in the air, it was tense.

Octavia looked wowed, something she could never admit in front of her brother. The Grounders had history. They had wealth, power, and history.

The Blakes came in and forever changed the game. She felt so wrong, so betrayed by her own people.

By her own brother.

She wondered how Clarke felt. She wondered about Bellamy’s reaction if he ever found out about Clarke’s allegiances.

She wondered if Bellamy would still love her.

“What are you thinking about?” Lincoln asked gently, stroking her back.

“Nothing.” Octavia sighed. “Everything. I don’t know, anymore.”

Lincoln nodded slowly. “It’s getting harder and harder, isn’t it?”

Octavia sat up a little, propped up by one elbow. “So…why don’t we run?”

Lincoln looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Run.” Octavia repeated adamantly. “Leave D.C. and never look back. No lies, no secrets, no fighting…Just you…” she leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to his lips. “And me…” she murmured once more, moaning gently when he pulled her closer, “…in love.” She finished.

“Octavia…” Lincoln sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, as if he could savor that time forever. “You know I love you.”

Octavia braced herself for the rejection she knew was coming. “But you love Lexa more.” She murmured.

Lincoln shook his head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Then why?” Octavia’s voice sounded hurt, angry even. “Why is it that I can turn my back on my own brother, but you can’t turn yours on…. on her?”

“Octavia…” Lincoln breathed, calling her back to attention. Back to reality. “Where would we go? You would leave everyone behind? Clarke? Raven?”

“Clarke has Lexa.” Octavia protested. “Raven…” she shook her head. “That’s not the point. Don’t change the subject, Lincoln. Lexa is a bad person. Why would you risk your life for her?”

Lincoln smiled softly. “That’s just it, love. She’s not. She’s doing the right thing.”

“How can you say that?” Octavia’s voice sounded impassioned. “I know that neither side is good, but…Lexa Woods?” She shook her head. “Lincoln, my parents….” Her voice caught in her throat.

“Shh…” Lincoln soothed her, pulling her close to his chest as he rocked her gently. “I know.”

“Then why?” Octavia’s voice was small.

“Because her family…they saved me. She saved all of us.”

“What does that even mean?” Octavia pressed him for answers. She needed something. Anything. Any justification.

“We were all…rejects.” Lincoln shook his head. “Some of us were…criminals, some of us were…on the red drug…” he shook his head. “Bad shit, okay? Lexa’s family…Lexa…. They gave us purpose. They fed us, they took care of us…and in return? We ran the streets for them.”

“How is that different from our side?” Octavia huffed.

Lincoln’s eyes darkened. “Bellamy went too far. Those kids…they don’t know that they’re signing up to die.”

“And Lexa wants to stop that?” Octavia flared sarcastically. “She’s a businesswoman, Linc. She’s ruthless! She doesn’t give a shit!”

“Octavia…” Lincoln mumbled as she removed herself from the warmth of his bed.

“Killing my parents wasn’t enough for the Grounders, was it?” She practically spat as she left the room, fuming inside.

She decided that she was going to help her family. 

* * *

 

“Hey.” Clarke glanced up to find Lexa standing over her. She had sat on the step beneath Lexa’s car’s open passenger door, likely needing air. “You okay?”

“I should probably be asking you that.” Lexa replied gently. “You…did well. I’m sorry it was so sudden.”

Clarke glanced up from her curtain of blonde hair. “I’m just glad it’s over…for now.”

Lexa nodded, kneeling into the pavement, so that she was level with Clarke. She reached forward, gently tilting Clarke’s chin upwards, so that their emerald and cerulean eyes could meet once more. “Clarke?”

Clarke just looked at her in response, unable to muster much of a reply. She was always breathless around Lexa.

“You’re not alone.” Lexa’s reminder was soft, gentle. “You’re mine- one of my people. Your needs are my needs…”

Clarke had spent too much of her life alone. Lexa had as well. It was a miserable existence, with no one to confide in. No one to share with. No one to love.

Clarke let out a gentle gasp at the rush of emotions she’d felt.

“I wanted to…” Lexa bit her lip, unsure of how to begin. “To ask you…No, to tell you…”

The blaring of Lexa’s phone ringer caused them both to jump, Clarke hitting her head on the car door handle while Lexa grit her teeth in frustration.

“Ow. Shit.” Clarke mumbled, rubbing her head where it made contact with the hard metal.

Lexa’s face turned into a pout of sympathy, and she had to ball her fists to keep from touching Clarke, making sure she was alright.

“I…was going to say…” Lexa couldn’t finish as the ringer kept blaring.

Clarke smiled amusedly. “You should get that, commander. Could be important.”

Lexa sighed, digging her phone out of her coat pocket. “I’m sorry, Clarke.” She sighed apologetically as she took the call.

“Anya?” Lexa’s voice was monotonous, stern.

A few words on the other end.

Lexa’s eyes widened and she shot up, out of her kneeling stance. “Where?”

Anya’s response was, of course, too quiet for Lexa to hear.

“I’m coming.” Lexa’s response was immediate, urgency prominent in her tone.

She hung up abruptly, shoving her phone into the open car door. She turned to Clarke, who’d stood up in alarm, looking concerned.

“Medical emergency?” Clarke guessed rapidly.

“No.” Lexa shook her head, biting her lip. “A fight. Arkers on the south side of the border, where Emerson’s used to be.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “A…a fight? Like with guns?”

Lexa nodded. “I don’t know Clarke…Just…go back inside, and I’ll make sure someone will get you when it’s all over. If I cannot.”

Clarke’s face fell into a frown almost instantly. “What? No, I’m coming with you.”

Lexa’s eyes flashed dangerously as she turned around. “You’re not.” Her words were almost threatening.

Clarke knew better than to challenge her. But she did anyway.

“Lexa, if people are getting hurt, they need me. I need to be there.” Clarke insisted.

“You’re a _liability,_ Clarke!” Lexa fumed.

Clarke knew she was just lying to get her to stay. She pressed on.

“I will stay out of the way. I’ll keep my head down.” Clarke insisted.

Lexa seethed, pushing Clarke gently against the exterior of her car. “I will not lose yo- any more of my people!” She found herself stumbling, seeing red all the while.

Clarke’s heart hammered as she gently removed Lexa’s hand from her chest, straightening. “We’re wasting time.”

“Clarke.” Lexa’s final protest was a plea, asking her to stay safe, out of harm’s way.

Clarke couldn’t imagine just sitting anywhere, while Lexa and the Grounders were risking life and limb against whatever the hell Bellamy had planned.

“I’m your equal now, remember?” Clarke spoke firmly.

Lexa had never driven with such anxiety.

* * *

 

Octavia had arrived at the back of Emerson’s old bar with a few of the people her brother had sent.

She could overhear Raven and Murphy arguing towards the front.

“You think it’ll work?” Murphy asked in the form of a grunt.

“I don’t know.” Raven sighed. “Better than having Lexa go ballistic on our asses, right?”

Murphy smirked. “Oh yeah. We just have to get their attention, and then….bang. We’re out of here, no casualties, and the savage commander hits the pavement.”

“You…think she has the stones to pull the trigger?” Raven muttered.

“Yeah. She was never in love.” Murphy snorted. “Bellamy was using her as a pawn the whole time.”

“Fuck.” Raven shook her head. “That’s cold.”

Raven had been acting weird for days, and the two hadn’t spoken properly in well over weeks.

Octavia was surprised then, to hear Raven call her name, as she watched it come out of her mouth in the form of a little cloud. Octavia wrapped her coat around her tighter.

“What the hell are you doing here, O?” Raven demanded, eyes constantly scanning for any sign of the Grounders.

“What do you think?” Octavia seethed. “Making sure you guys don’t screw up Bellamy’s plan!”

Murphy glanced at the two bickering and rolled his eyes. “Chicks.” He shrugged, earning daggers from both girls.

“Bellamy wouldn’t want you here.” Raven warned.

“What are you gonna do?” Octavia stepped in her way, their faces inches apart.

“I could tell him about the Grounder you’ve been fucking…” Raven snarled lowly, just low enough for Octavia to hear.

Octavia’s eyes widened. “ _You…You_ …”

Raven nodded slowly. “Don’t think Bell would like that, huh?”

Octavia froze. This was dangerous. Every fiber in her being was telling her to run. To flee the scene. To get Lincoln and leave D.C.

She was worried, for him.

For what Bellamy would do to him if he ever found out.

* * *

 

Lexa’s Bluetooth set annoyed Clarke, because she wasn’t able to hear what the hell was going on.

It was just a series of one sided responses, grunts and sighs as she drove furiously towards Emerson’s side of the territory.

Clarke watched the way her grip tightened around the wheel occasionally, knuckles whitening all the while.

Clarke wanted to fight. She felt something within her, something telling her that she needed to. That she needed to defend what was hers, and more importantly…Lexa.

But Lexa Woods needed no defense.

So instead, Clarke watched the now dark, blackened sky give way to street lights that flickered, and she watched the shadows they cast dancing on Lexa’s tightened jaw.

“How long do they have before the police show up?” Clarke was surprised to find her voice firm.

Lexa glanced up in surprise, Clarke had been stoic and quiet for nearly the entire ride. “Not long, if people are nearby. Guns attract attention, and eventually, they will respond to a call. Bribes only buy a little time.”

“So what’s the plan?” Clarke found that she was all business, and she was impressing herself.

“Plan?” Lexa echoed. “You _will_ stay in the car, and you _will_ stay low.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “You don’t _command_ me, Lexa.”

Lexa clenched her fists around the wheel in a show of anger. “I _won’t_ have you in harm’s way.” Her words almost sounded choked up.

“I won’t be.” Clarke pointed out mildly. “Those are my people.”

Lexa looked uncomfortable at that statement.

“Well…” Clarke sighed. “They were, anyway. They still think I’m one of them.”

“You’re not?” Lexa challenged, half hopeful, half attacking.

Clarke’s jaw tightened. “Now is _not_ the time, Lexa.”

Lexa sucked in a breath as she neared the back of the ratty bar Clarke had…almost gotten Lincoln killed in.

Shots echoed behind the small structure, and Clarke strained her neck to see something, anything. Any sign of Lincoln, Anya or Gustus. Any sign of Raven, Octavia, or Murphy.

She was rewarded with shots the pierced the cold night air, as dots of rain began to collect on Lexa’s car’s windshield. Perhaps the sky was mourning an inevitable loss. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, forcing away any negative feelings.

“Stay.” Lexa demanded fiercely before banging on the dashboard glovebox, yanking out a pistol similar to the one Clarke had seen her shoot before.

Lexa slammed the car door behind her, and Clarke watched her disappear to the back lot, where, presumably, the action had taken place.

“Of course I’m on your side.” Clarke muttered to herself as she eyed the dashboard with conviction. She had to do _something._

* * *

 

“What the hell happened?” Anya demanded through gritted teeth as she ducked behind the cover of Lincoln’s car, fury tinging her tone. “We’re a goddamned gang, we shoot from cars, not start full out ground wars in the middle of the slums!”

“I…I don’t know!” Lincoln admitted, chest heaving as metal particles whizzed past them in the air. “I just got here! Lexa told us to keep an eye on the area in case Bellamy wanted to move his people in and regain some turf.”

Anya’s eyes darkened, as she realized where exactly he’d been. More importantly, who he’d been with.

The night sky began to shed its excess water onto them in the form of little drops, not fully raining yet.

“Did you call Lexa?” Gustus grunted as he reached over the car’s hood to fire a few warning shots and examine the opponent’s numbers.

They didn’t look entirely threatening. Just the cripple girl who fought like the damned terminator, and the punk reject kid with the bad attitude and lack of respect for authority. Those two seemed to be in charge, while a few others lingered on the flanks.

“She’s coming.” Anya responded tersely.

A loud, thunderous shot whizzed past Lincoln’s car, taking out one of his mirrors.

“Son of a bitch.” Lincoln growled disdainfully. They weren’t at an advantageous position, and they didn’t have orders. Sure, they could have gotten their hands dirty but…Lexa didn’t want a bloodbath, did she?

“Come on out, savages.” John Murphy’s voice rang with excitement. It was sick. It was as if he a got a high out of the bloodshed. “I promise I’ll make it nice and slow.”

Lincoln felt a vein throb in his forehead as he struggled to maintain his temper. He rose suddenly, wheeling around with his gun in hand, out of the cover of the car, firing off shots in Murphy’s general direction.

He froze, then.

“Lincoln, what the fuck!” Anya snapped. “Get down!”

His hand started shaking a little, wrapped around the gun unsurely.

He was staring at Octavia Blake, very clearly on the other side of their makeshift warzone parking lot.

She, too, had her gun raised as if she were poised to kill.

The rain began to pour down, beating the pavement violently, soaking everyone without proper cover.

“What the fuck, Octavia!” Murphy’s voice sounded from behind cover. “Take the shot!”

Seconds passed, but they felt like years.

Lincoln contemplated dropping his gun. He thought about how the hot lead would feel, buried in his chest.

He thought about looking into Octavia’s blue eyes with dying breaths.

Octavia looked ghostly pale, lip trembling ever so slightly. The two were frozen in time and space, unable to do anything but stare.

“Christ, Lincoln!” Anya rose and yanked him down just as Raven rose to fire off two shots with dead precision in his path.

“Are you hurt?” Gustus grunted, giving Lincoln a once over.

“I…” Lincoln couldn’t form words. He glanced at the blood now staining his pants, coming from his leg. Luckily, he wasn’t shot. Clipped, by a deadly accurate bullet. Did Octavia just shoot at him?

“Never mind that.” Anya snapped, sliding a bit to the left, as three piercing shots rang out into the night. “You need help.”

“Fuck!” One of the Arker girls from the flank cried out.

“She’s hit!” Another Arker voice sounded, Lincoln was too delirious to tell who it was.

As long as it wasn’t Octavia.

Lincoln glanced up, eyes meeting Lexa’s verdant gaze in the dark, pouring rain. “Lexa.” He sucked in a breath. She’d fired the shots.

“Lincoln, are you hurt?” Lexa demanded. “Any of you?”

“I’m fine.” Lincoln gritted his teeth. “Been through worse.”

Lexa bit her lip. “Anya, the car. Clarke is in the car.”

Anya glanced up at Lexa like she’d lost her mind. “You want us to…”

“Get Lincoln to the car!” Lexa demanded. “I’ll cover you.”

Lexa trained her eyes on the scene in front of her, weapon in hand like a gladiator donned a spear. She steeled herself as she watched Gustus and Anya drag Lincoln out to safety, her heart beating loudly in her chest.

The firing had ceased.

Lexa listened for footsteps, trying to hear anything over the sound of the rain slapping against the cement.

Instead, she heard a gentle, graceful voice. A call. “Lexa?” That voice.

Lexa knew that voice.

Lexa yearned for that voice, she dreamed about that voice. She’d fallen in love with that voice. She’d made love to that voice. She’d cried for that voice. She’d been hurt by that voice.

Lexa lost all sense of thought, all sense of tact and ability to perceive her situation.

The rain had soaked her, her eye makeup running like a blurred mask around her eyes, ensuring that she truly looked like the commander she supposedly was.

Her clothes stuck to her, her breath came out in small clouds.

She rose up from her position of cover, and found that the Arkers on the other side were nowhere in sight. They’d retreated?

Lexa’s eyes were met with a painful sight. She was there, unsullied by the rain and the fighting, looking pristine. Her blue eyes were dark, reflective. Her golden hair fell around her in long locks.

“Costia?” Lexa sounded numb.

“Lexa.” Costia sounded…fearful?

Lexa hadn’t seen her since…her parent’s accident. Time had been kind to her, it seemed.

Lexa, drawn in to Costia like a siren’s song, took a step closer.

The harsh rain echoed in the small space of the parking lot, beating off the hard resistant metals of the cars and dumpsters.

Lexa could barely hear the footsteps behind her. Running, beating down, trying to reach her.

“I’m sorry, Lexa.” Costia sounded gently as her hands wrapped around something.

 Lexa’s eyes fell to the pistol Costia’s delicate hands were wrapped around. Her breath caught in her throat as she blinked once in surprise.

She was going to shoot Lexa.

It was Bellamy’s plan all along to draw her out. Her weakness.

Lexa’s gun was in her hand.

All she had to do was aim, and fire.

Hell, it wouldn’t take Lexa half the time it was taking Costia to go through the motions.

Lexa had killed before. Lexa was trained.

Costia was Bellamy’s pawn. A part of Lexa knew this, in that moment. And yet? Lexa found her ability to move, to speak, to breathe…all taken from her.

The shot rang out, a loud crack of thunder that struck Lexa down, making her fall to her knees and hit the ground with a harsh impact. Another shot. And another. It was deafening.

A pause, then.

Lexa sucked in a breath, waiting for her own blood to pool around her. Waiting for the rain to wash away her existence. She thought of Clarke. Her bright blue eyes and her smiles and witty little comments that gave Lexa life.

Lexa blinked, waiting for the pain.

It did not come.

Lexa’s eyes shot open, taking in the grey, dark night sky and the pouring rain.

And Clarke Griffin, who was on the floor beside her, gun in her limp hand, clutching at her lower abdomen with agony in her gaze. Blood began to pool around her fingers, but her blue eyes were intent on meeting Lexa's horrified verdant gaze, and Lexa had realized exactly what had happened. 

Clarke Griffin was the one running behind her, knocking her out of the way with enough force to send her into the pavement instead.

Clarke Griffin was the one who fired those last shots, sending the untrained Costia diving for cover.

Clarke Griffin had just saved Lexa Wood's life.

Clarke Griffin had taken a bullet for her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit. That's more like it for a gang AU, wouldn't you say?  
> Secret shout out to my secret partner in crime ;) for helping me out immensely. We've laid out the entire story...it's going to be wicked. 
> 
> Anyway- sorry for the shorter chapter, I have many many updates to keep up with. (Wednesday update sound good, guys?)
> 
> Clexa Fake Dating AU was updated today! :http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439
> 
> Fluffy CLEXA Canon Divergence Story was Updated as well!: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6409051
> 
> Thank you all for reading/kudos/comments. I really do read each and every comment, and I try to respond! They're the best part of writing this stuff- I really value your opinions a whole lot!


	13. Unholy Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Clarke fights for her life, Lexa comes to a desperate realization, Bellamy confesses, and Raven and Octavia shatter their friendship.

The cold, unforgiving, serene silence of death was interrupted by the brilliant rebuttal of life. They argued, they raged within Clarke with every gasp and every glance at Lexa.

 _Her Lexa_.

Lexa, who was safe, unharmed.

The Lexa that lit some insatiable, raging fire within her, causing her to do idiotic, blind things with reckless abandon.

For Lexa? She’d have done it again. Over, and over, and over.  

Chaos erupted into the lot, the same lot that, with a short passage of time, had the potential to become a graveyard.

The Arkers hadn’t fled. They had just backed off enough to let Costia do her job.

The one she almost got away with.

The one Clarke prevented by throwing herself in front of a bullet meant for Lexa. A bullet Clarke didn’t deserve to have buried in her abdomen.

The one that was killing Clarke with every ragged, body shaking breath she took.

“Clarke.” Lexa was up, scrambling to her knees in an instant, Costia long forgotten.

Everything was Clarke.

Every painful breath, every pump of her frantic heart, every salty teardrop mixed with the rain that poured on incessantly.

Clarke _was_ going to die, if she didn’t get immediate medical help.

The rain kept beating down. It kept on taunting, laughing at her.

 She had one duty.

One chance.

She promised Abby.

She said she would protect Clarke.

And she didn’t.

Clarke would never see Abby again. Never get the chance to reconcile, to tell her that she wanted her back in her life. Clarke would never cast a shy smile in Lexa’s direction in the hallway, or graze another paintbrush against a barren canvas.

Clarke would never press another hesitant kiss to her cheek, or hotly voice her opinion that Lexa’s plans were dangerous, or immoral.

Clarke would be wiped from existence.

And it was her burden to carry.

“Clarke!” Lexa’s voice was strained and the raindrops hid her tears. She was supporting Clarke in an instant, arms holding her up as if she’d sink under the pavement if she didn’t.

“Lexa.” Clarke breathed through gritted teeth, hand stuck to her crimson abdomen.

Lexa couldn’t tell if there were tears on her face from the pain, or raindrops from the storm.

“Clarke.” Lexa was breathing her name over and over again, one hand supporting her, the other pressuring her wound.

“Hey…” Clarke croaked.

She _smiled_ , then. Clarke Griffin, despite just having taken a bullet for Lexa, _smiled._

“Hey...” Lexa murmured, eyes flicking upwards for signs of a threat.

Clarke could see the guilt that was tearing Lexa, eating her up. She wanted to take her face into her hands, to kiss away her doubts, her selfish blame. She hadn't the strength to try.

She found nothing. Not a shadow, not a movement, not a single sound.

“GOSTOS!” Lexa all but screamed. She needed to get Clarke to a hospital, or she’d bleed out right there on the wet pavement.

She heard distant shuffling and, though she wasn’t religious, prayed that it was her people and not Bellamy’s.

“We’re even now, right?” Clarke’s voice was low, dreamily teasing, a wry smile stained on her lips. So desperate to simply slip away like a petal in a breeze.  

Lexa laughed ever so gently, despite the tears that poured freely down her cheeks. Despite the situation. “Yes, Clarke.” She murmured into Clarke’s hair, waiting desperately for Gustus or Anya to come. “More than that.”

“I’ll be fine.” Clarke’s voice was fading in and out. Even now, she’d taken the worry of Lexa’s face in, and tried to console her. “Just…don’t go.”

“I’m here.” Lexa repeated over and over again. “Stay with me, Clarke. Stay with me.”

Clarke’s eyelids were fluttering, but she tried so desperately to hold onto Lexa’s voice, to her consciousness, to her life.

Gustus and Anya were there, guns out and poised to kill as they rapidly approached Clarke.

They didn’t bother asking for what had happened.

Lexa didn’t think they were fast enough, her rationality killed by her love. “They’re gone!” She snapped. “Help her! Help me!”

Gustus, a thick, shadowy figure in the pouring rain, grabbed Clarke with great ease, Lexa rising with him, her hand on Clarke’s abdomen.

“The car!” Lexa demanded viciously, all else forgotten. “Now!”

Gustus nodded, making haste with Clarke. Anya was rather preoccupied with covering their six, wary of leftover Arkers. They’d sink low enough to strike at any time.

“ _Ste yuj, Klark_.” Gustus rumbled, watching the blonde with a grateful eye.

“… _Yuj_ ….?” Clarke mumbled gently.

“ _Strong_ , Clarke.” Lexa whispered by her ear. “It means strong.”

Clarke attempted to nod, but only succeeded in blinking.

Gustus gently dropped Clarke in Lexa’s lap in the car, where she pressed the wound still, cradling Clarke’s head and chest in her lap.

“The hospital.” Anya’s voice rang. “I’ll drive.”

Gustus grunted something.

Clarke blinked, vision swimming. She was beginning to see two Lexa’s.

“My blood…” Clarke found herself murmuring. “It’ll ruin your shirt…”

She was _definitely_ beginning to lose it. If she were in her stable, right mind, she would’ve snorted a laugh at the obscene timing of the comment.

Lexa glanced down, brow furrowed as she listened to Clarke’s words. “It’s fine, Clarke.” She sounded, very obviously, as if she’d been crying. Choked up words that never surfaced.

“I liked that shirt.” Clarke mumbled hazily.

“…you can have it.” Lexa’s smile and exhale of sad humor was forced, as she was desperately trying to keep a dialogue going with Clarke, no matter how menial the subject. She needed to stay awake.

Lincoln’s hand clutched Clarke’s shoulder. “Come on _strisis_.” He murmured, as Clarke’s eyes struggled to find the source. “Hang in there.”

Lexa’s emerald gaze was tortured. “Come on Anya, faster!”

Clarke, if she could have thought properly, would have known that somewhere, Anya was biting back a response. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to smile.

She couldn’t do either one.

“My mom…” Clarke croaked, eyes finding Lexa’s in a deadlock. “Tell her…tell her I’m sorry.”

Lincoln looked terrified, eyes pained as he watched Clarke seemingly wither away.

“You tell her.” Lexa murmured by Clarke’s ear, bent over her protectively. “Because you’re going to be fine.” Her words drove nails into her own heart. She felt as if she should’ve been the one to bleed.

She gazed up at Lexa. Her beautiful, soaking wet hair clinging to her face as she poured her energy into saving Clarke.

Even then, in the haze of war and pain and loss, with betrayal seeping from every poorly stitched end of Clarke’s life, she found that Lexa’s gaze gave her… _not peace, never peace_ , but…life. Contentment. She took in the way her hair stuck to her chiseled jawline, the way her full lips were ordering Anya to go faster.

_I could die like this._

Clarke hadn’t realized she’d said that _aloud._

“No, no Clarke…. no.” Lexa’s voice was shaken, fear gripping every syllable. “You won’t. You _can’t_.”  

Clarke wished she had a choice in the matter.

* * *

 

“She’s fucking dead.”

“Raven-”

“She’s dead. She’ll bleed out before she gets anywhere-”

“Raven-”

“THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT.” Raven wheeled around on Octavia, who’d been restraining her from running to Clarke’s limp body, Lexa draped over her as she signaled her people back for help. “You and your brother sent her there in the first place!”

Thunder roared, echoing in the small entrapment of a parking lot that Raven, Octavia, and a few of the other Arkers stood just outside of.

The cover of the storm was enough to silence her cries.

“Don’t say that, Raven.” Octavia’s jaw set as she folded her arms over her chest, trying to trap the heat that was left in her body.

“Why? Don’t care much for the truth, do you?” Raven spat, anger clouding her gaze.

“Costia missed. Shit happens, Ray!”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Raven roared, earning glances from several of her comrades. They were distant enough to see, luckily not enough to hear.

Murphy was out by the car, bent over Costia, checking her for any wounds or trauma.

“She…who the fuck is she, anyway?” Raven seethed. “Who gave her the right-”

“She’s Bellamy’s girlfriend!” Octavia snapped.

“Yeah? Since fucking when, O? Everyone knows Bellamy has been pathetically head over heels for Clarke since I've known you all!” Raven hissed. “And now? Now Clarke is going to _die_.” Raven’s voice shook with anger, she was no stranger to the empty, ghosting pains of loss.

The rain seemed to intensify with her anger, as the sky wept for their mistakes.

“What?” Octavia paled. “Raven, what the fuck are you-”

“Open your goddamned eyes, Octavia.” Raven’s teeth were gritted. “He’s losing it. He’s losing this entire fucking war. That girl-” she motioned to Costia angrily. “Was Lexa Woods’ girlfriend for years. You think they started dating by chance?”

Octavia’s heart was hammering. “You’re not saying that he planned-”

“Of course I am.” Raven growled. “And you? You’ve been so busy with your little Grounder boy that you forgot to care about your real family!”

Octavia’s eyes widened. “You have no right.” Her voice was frantically acidic as she found herself backed against a wall.

“ _I_  have no right?” Raven laughed loudly, wryly. “Look who’s talking. How would big brother Bellamy feel if he found out you’ve been fu-”

“We’re all you _have_.” Octavia didn’t mean it. She didn’t.

But the words were out rapidly, uncontrollably, like the lightning that cracked the sky.

Raven swung Octavia with lazy force, still knocking her down to the pavement.

Octavia wasn’t one to shy away from a fight. Sweeping her legs out, she took Raven down on top of her, and the two were at it like they came from separate gangs altogether.

“You shot him!” Octavia’s voice was panicked, terrified that she had the will to fight Raven, her sister, her best friend.

“I saved you!” Raven snarled back angrily, struggling to get on top of Octavia.

“He never would have shot me!” Octavia growled back, teeth clenched.

“Hey!” Murphy’s distant shout was furious. “Get off each other! Have you two lost your shit?”

Octavia and Raven were deaf to the rest of the world. Octavia forced Raven’s head back, scrambling to get to her feet.

They were entangled with each other, kicking and lashing out in a uncoordinated fashion, though both girls knew how to fight with incredible poise and form.

They were half-heartedly scrambling to simply stay off each other, with weak throws and scratches.

It was heartbreaking.

“Reyes, what the fuck!” Murphy yanked Raven back by the collar of her leather jacket, causing her to gasp for air.

“She-…She…” Raven heaved, hands on her knees. “She was…”

“Spit it out!” Murphy growled, watching his friend struggle to form a coherent sentence.

Octavia watched in horror. Murphy’s loyalty was to Bellamy above all else.

Lincoln would join Clarke in the grave.

“She…wouldn’t let me go after Clarke.” Raven sighed, blood oozing from her nose. She pinched it back with a grunt.

Murphy shook his head. “Obviously. Clarke’s got her commander lover. She can pull major strings, Reyes. Clarke will make it.”

Octavia heaved a sigh of relief, running her hands through her soaking hair, wincing when she felt her lip sting.

“Murphy…” Octavia coughed, sitting up. “We’re fine. Lay off.”

She knew she was the closest thing to Bellamy, when he wasn’t around.

Murphy was right.

Lexa wouldn’t let Lincoln die.

And she especially wouldn’t let Clarke die.

“How’s she?” Raven jerked her head towards Costia, who sat on the edge of the car, her feet dangling off her chair out the open door.

“Well… that was a fuck up. She looks pissed.” Murphy chimed in, his hands jammed into his pockets, satisfied that Raven wouldn’t murder Octavia.

“I’d be if I fucked up that badly and shot my boyfriend’s true love.” Raven sneered, a show of nonchalance after her fight.

It was her version of licking her wounds, it seemed.

Murphy stifled a dry chuckle. He watched an SUV pull around the corner, taking off at surely illegal speeds. “There goes the commander with Clarke.”

“Jesus.” Raven turned, kicking an aluminum can with her good leg, watching it hit the wall and roll down towards the gutter. “What a mess.”

“So…” Murphy clapped his hands together, grin on his face. “Who gets to tell Bellamy?”

* * *

 

The smell of antiseptic was enough to turn Lexa away from the hospital doors she’d just entered, Clarke in Gustus’ sturdy grasp.

They were all covered in blood.

Lexa had heard enough about Anya’s reservations regarding entering the ER like everyone else.

This was Clarke.

Lexa was not going to gamble with her life. No back-alley doctors, no under the table drugs or uncertified bullshit they usually dealt with.

Clarke Griffin was dying.

The personnel were on her like a swarm of killer bees, buzzing about as they forced Lexa to distance herself a bit.

Lexa was in a daze. Her limbs felt heavy, like lead. She blinked under the harsh fluorescent lights, her clothes stuck to her shivering frame. Her bloody hands were shaking as she watched Clarke’s colleagues do their job.

She realized that someone was holding her back. It was Anya.

“It’s Doctor Griffin!” A voice shouted.

“What the hell happened?”

Another voice chimed in.

“A single wound- lower abdomen.”

And yet another.

“She’s barely breathing!”

“Holy shit is that Clarke?”

“She hasn’t been in for days!”

“Get the gurney, let’s move people!”

“Where’s Wells?”

A cacophony of beeps, footsteps, shouts and cries deafened Lexa, as everything blurred around her.

Lexa was no stranger to death. Lexa had seen it. She’d experienced it with her parents, with her time in service, and at just about every major stage of her life.

Lexa was comfortable, with death.

She’d always accepted that she was going to die. It was a fact of life, to her. She figured that, in one confrontation or another, she’d bite the bullet or suffer the consequences.

She was never shaken by it.

Hell, she wasn’t truly shaken by the idea of losing her people. Sure, she’d lost sleep over them. She treated them like family. She worried about them, cared for them, loved them.

But the thought of losing Clarke?

It terrified Lexa to her core. She’d never felt so helpless, so pathetically futile and mortal as she watched them wheel away the one person who’d seen past her façade. The one person who reminded her that it wasn’t all darkness, spite and hatred.

The love of Lexa’s life.

“Lincoln needs medical attention.” Anya had loosened her grip on Lexa, now supporting Lincoln as he too was being swept away.

It was a good thing the Woods name carried weight here, else they might not have gotten the absolute best care available.

“Lexa?” Anya’s head snapped up to see Lexa tearing after Clarke’s gurney, the team of jaded hospital staff clearly unfazed.

“They never let anyone past that point.” Anya’s brow furrowed as she held Lincoln’s hand, watching as scrub-clad nurses began their act of rushing him away heroically.

Despite his pain, Lincoln laughed. “She’s Lexa _Woods_.”

That was all he had to say.

Anya understood the gravity of those words.

“You’re okay?” Anya’s voice was tense as her eyes took in the man in tatters before her.

“ _Nou get yu daun, Anya_.” Lincoln grimaced. “I’ll be fine. Watch out for her.”

Anya nodded solemnly.

Lexa Woods needed them now, more than ever.

* * *

 

“Lexa. Or should I say… _Heda_.” Echo’s voice sounded from behind her, causing her to jump.

She’d been leaning against the wall, bloodied arms folded against her wet body, right across from Clarke’s room, hidden by blinds.

They were lenient enough to let her this far, but the room was out of the question.

So she took to mentally berating herself across the hall.

She was usually quite in tune, her senses more accurate and responsive due to her training.

That was all out the window, of course, as she worried for Clarke’s life.

“Echo.” Lexa’s voice was grim as she turned to take in the doctor, her gaze taking in the brunette, her features stoic as ever.

Echo had to be stoic. After all, she was Lexa’s source of information from within Ark hospital for years.

“How’s Clarke?” Lexa’s voice was grim, heavy with the weight of terror.

Echo glanced down, her coat and ID badge glaring under the light. “They just wheeled her in, Lexa. They’re prepping her.”

“Who’s the surgeon?” Lexa demanded, voice venomous. “Why aren’t you in there?”

“Not mine to take.” Echo replied firmly, implying that she had no control over the situation. “I just came down as soon as I heard. You…usually don’t make appearances here.” She added the last part cautiously, carefully.

Why would Lexa break protocol now?

Echo frowned, brow furrowing. “I heard the surgeon was going to be…Doctor Griffin…Clarke is the patient though so…that must be a mistake…”

Lexa’s lips pressed into a firm line. “Don’t toy with me, Echo, I-”

Just then, Lexa saw a quite familiar blonde rushing down the hall, flanked by two others a man and a woman, all in scrubs.

Her eyes widened, but she wasn’t sure.

She recognized the man. Wells. The one who was…touching Clarke, before she’d arrived at the Clinic, sickly and ready to apologize.

“Doctor Griffin, wait!” Wells called, but it was too late.

After opening the door for a brief moment, she let out a gasp and a cry, and wheeled around, hand covering her mouth.

“Wells, get in here! Let’s go!” A voice from within the room called, and Wells disappeared into the room.

The door shut securely behind them, leaving Abby Griffin out in the figurative cold.

 _Of course_ this was her temporary job. What hospital wouldn’t want the renowned Surgeon Abigail Griffin working for them, temporarily or otherwise?

Lexa was staring at the blonde who was still very clearly in shock.

“Oh my…” Echo froze, feeling Lexa tense up beside her. “Clarke’s mom?”

“Leave us.” Lexa nearly whispered, but it was a hell of a threat nonetheless, and Echo murmured something about going to check on Anya before bowing out completely.

A light flickered in the hallway, across the great chasm of space between Abby Griffin and Lexa Woods.

Shadows flickered, darkening parts of Lexa’s face, making her feel more and more like the goddamned monster she was.

She had to speak. Had to force her dry throat to say something, anything at all. Was she supposed to comfort Clarke’s mother? Tell her everything would be alright when it so clearly was a gamble? Was she supposed to confess, like a repentant soul looking to right things?

There was no righting this, no way she could ever forgive herself, if Clarke passed away in that room, with the cold glances from her coworkers and the beeping of rhythmic machines.

No way she could ever forgive herself if she died before making peace with her mother, before falling in love, and living out so many happy years and experiences that Lexa felt she robbed her of.

She had nothing to say, and yet, she forced herself to utter something.

“Doctor Griffin.” Her voice was stronger than she’d suspected it to be, and yet it shook.

The blonde glanced up, eyes dead and unforgiving.

“I….” Lexa swallowed the lie that formed in her throat.

Never in her life had she felt so much scrutiny. Never had she felt so incompetent.

Abby spoke up, her lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Her voice was cold and steely. “You promised.”

Lexa felt every piece of her heart crumble, wither away, and die within her.

Abby’s berating was nothing.

Clarke was her only concern, and Abby was right. She’d thrown it all away.

“You know…” Abby began again, closing the distance between them. “Wells…he was right about you.”

Lexa didn’t hold her gaze, like she normally would, if challenged. Instead she found a particular spot on the floor, and fixated on it, trying not to let her shivering become so apparent.

“You’re dangerous.” Abby whispered, her voice conveying the fear she so obviously felt.

Abby was a pickaxe, chipping away at Lexa’s remaining shamble of a defense, brick by brick.

Not the way Clarke had, with warm smiles and cheek kisses and reassurances.

In a much colder, scarring, violent way.

“I…I heard rumors, about Clarke’s involvement. But…I thought…they were just that. Rumors.” Abby seemed like she was in hysterics. She was hardly heaving for air or even crying. Just speaking at a normal level, which terrified Lexa further.

Lexa glanced up, eyes burning under Abby’s intense gaze. “I never intended-”

Abby laughed. She let out a cold, chilling laugh that made Lexa even colder. “Intent? You want to talk about intent?” Her voice rose. “What did you intend when you used my daughter like a pawn, Lexa? What did you think would happen when you took someone so innocent, and pure…and….and…” she was seething now, Lexa flinching beneath her. “And corrupted her? You….took her life….away…” Abby bit her lip to keep the sobs back. “And for what?”

Lexa closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. She deserved this. Every letter of every word coming from Abby’s mouth.

“What where you after?” Abby raised her hand in a motion to strike Lexa, straight across the face.

Lexa saw it coming, long before it happened. She saw Abby’s hand, the flick of her wrist. She thought of a thousand ways to defend herself- her instinct was to catch the arm and bend it backwards. To duck and strike Abby somewhere exposed, leaving her vulnerable.

Lexa did not take hits, and yet, she did nothing.

She merely closed her eyes, and readied herself for the blow.

It never came.

Abby threw her hands up in the air, and then yanked Lexa into her embrace, sobbing freely, openly.

Lexa was frozen, stunned in place. She felt her stilled arms carefully rub Abby’s back, still shamed and fearful.

“Oh, god…” Abby shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. She’s going to be fine. She’s going to be just fine.”

Lexa nearly had whiplash from the sudden change.

She felt tears streak down her cheeks.

She’d created this mess.

She was going to see it through.

“Let’s…let’s get you some towels.” Abby sniffled into her ear.

Lexa found hope in the strangest places.

* * *

 

The waiting room was quiet. Anya sat beside Lexa, and in a rare display of affection, took the younger girl’s hand and held it in her own, glad to see that she’d dried up a little.

Abby had disappeared behind closed doors, which Lexa knew was to see if she could get any updates on Clarke’s condition, as she wasn’t allowed to actually operate on her own kin.

While Anya thought of Lincoln, Lexa worried for Clarke. The two remained stoic as they sat in the sparsely decorated room, aching silently, and as one.

“Why here?” Anya murmured, a few hours into their vigil.

“Hmm?” Lexa responded hazily.

She couldn’t sleep while Clarke’s state was undetermined. She couldn’t dream in fear of night terrors that would bleed into her reality. She couldn’t possibly do anything for herself, knowing she put Clarke in that state.

“Why here?” Anya repeated, a bit louder. “I mean…it’s against our policy.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “Policy?” She demanded, her voice dry. She took a sip of coffee to even it out.

“It attracts too much attention.” Anya replied. “That’s why we got Clarke initially. Well…besides the whole…sabotage bit.”

Lexa sighed. There was no point in concealing anything anymore, not when Clarke was fading away not a few doors down.

“I couldn’t…I couldn’t lose them.” Her answer wasn’t weak, merely soft.

Anya nodded gently. “I understand.”

Lexa bit her lip. “I was right, Anya.”

Anya tilted her head. “About?”

“Remember…when we spoke in your office. I told you love is blindness.”

Anya straightened, shaking her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Have you gotten an infection in those wet clothes of yours?”

Lexa remained stoic. “I was blind.”

“Lexa, no one would have done anything differently, in your position.” Anya replied heavily, squeezing Lexa’s hand. “You couldn’t have known…that…”

“That Costia was Bellamy’s pawn this entire time?” Lexa offered up bitterly.

Costia was irrelevant. Bellamy was irrelevant. Clarke was everything and anything.

“Clarke’s love for you is what saved you.” Anya’s voice was firm. There was no room for argument.

Lexa’s eyes glistened as she took in a sharp, painful breath. “She could die, because of me.”

Anya bit her lip. “If it was you or her…”

“Her.” Lexa countered immediately. “Always her.”

It wasn’t a choice.

Lexa would always choose Clarke over herself.

“Then the love is mutual.” Anya murmured in a satisfied tone, closing her eyes.

“How can…can you be okay?” Lexa sighed, rubbing her temples. “She…she might…” she couldn’t say it.

“She won’t.” Anya responded, eyes closed, head tilted back.

“How… do you know?” Lexa’s voice quivered, thankful that she was at least dry, if still stained with Clarke’s blood.

“Because the world owes you, Lexa. You’ve suffered enough.” Anya’s whisper echoed in her head as she felt Anya’s hand go limp, the result of her falling asleep.

Lexa heard footsteps. She glanced up, rising when Abby came into the room, heart racing wildly in her chest.

“They’re done.” Abby murmured, relief evident in her voice. “You’ll be able to go in, soon.”

Lexa’s heart never stopped racing. She nodded slowly, feeling relief spread to every inch of her body, causing her to feel lighter and freer than she had that entire evening.

She hadn’t known how much Clarke was to her.

She knew now.

* * *

 

“What do you mean it went wrong?” Bellamy’s voice was hard, cold and calculating.

Everyone in his office was silent, still wet from the storm that was just passing, still littering the streets with wet splotches of rain and little gusts of wind.

No one wanted to break it to Bellamy.

But they all felt compelled by duty.

Bellamy was staring at the motley crew, surprised to find Octavia bruised and battered, in the mix as well.

He’d deal with her and Raven. But first, he wanted to hear the words.

_Lexa Woods is dead, Bellamy._

_We got her right between the eyes._

_Clarke can come back, now._

_We can take her turf and end this pathetic little pissing match. Nia gets her share and we can profit. Costia did it._

Bellamy heard nothing. No laughter, no excited smiles, no cheering up and down. Octavia’s eyes were red and puffy. She’d looked beaten, and she’d been crying.

Raven looked like she wanted to beat the shit out of something, and she and Octavia hadn’t uttered a word to each other.

Murphy kept his head down, unable to speak.

Costia looked like she wanted to die.

They were all wet.

“Your girlfriend shot Clarke.” Raven spoke through gritted teeth, like she had been whenever Octavia was near.

Bellamy froze.

The clouds were passing, casting odd shadows through the darkened window. Bellamy turned, taking a breath. He had to compose himself. He couldn’t let go. Not now.

Clarke.

_His Clarke._

The same Clarke he’d been protecting. From Finn. From Lexa.

The Clarke he’d sent to do his final bidding.

_His Clarke._

Costia looked as if she wanted to speak. “Bell, I…” she trailed off, shutting her eyes. “She…She shot at me…”

Bellamy didn’t look concerned for the blonde in the slightest.

His eyes were squeezed shut as he clenched his fists, balling them up at his sides.

“Here we fucking go.” Octavia muttered to herself, more than anyone else.

“HOW?” Bellamy’s shout boomed across what was probably the entirety of the vacant office floor.

Murphy glanced up tentatively. “Woods brought her.” His response was clipped.

No one wanted to explain fully.

That was a death sentence.

“That….bitch. Son of a bitch!” Bellamy was incoherently angry. He spun, knocking a whiskey glass off his desk, watching it shatter on the floor.

Octavia’s eyebrows shot up. She said nothing.

“What….” Bellamy heaved a sigh, suddenly sounding as if he were in agony.

Costia looked concerned, stepping forward.

He put up a hand defensively, causing her to pause and step back once more.

“What happened?” Bellamy’s eyes glistened with pain.

“She…knocked Woods out of the way.” Raven muttered. “Took the bullet for her.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened as he tore his suit jacket off, throwing it carelessly as he loosened his collar, suddenly feeling a pressing, dire urge to breathe freely. He was heaving as he silently fumed. “Everyone, out.”

“But…” Costia breathed gently.

“EVERYONE.” Bellamy roared. He whipped around. “Raven. Stay.”

Raven glanced up in surprise, her eyes tracing his balled fists. She nodded slowly, watching as everyone else filed out.

Octavia shot her a look, begging her not to say anything.

She was done with Octavia.

When Murphy shut the door behind everyone, Bellamy finally unleashed the anger he’d pent up. He whipped around, knocking everything off his desk. Files, folders, glasses, a cup of pens…

Raven said nothing, her jaw locking in place as she watched him destroy everything, just like he’d done to his people.

“This is about her.” Raven’s tone had an edge to it that she never would have had before.

But this was the final straw for her.

Bellamy turned, eyes glazed, chest rising and falling, voice quivering. “Tell me she’s okay.”

Raven looked uncomfortable.

“Ray…” Bellamy pleaded, his voice small. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know!” Raven confessed, her voice sounding pained. “She took one to…the abs, it looked like. I thought she was dead.”

Bellamy looked broken, shattered. “No. No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t…. I didn’t get this far…just to…to lose her…”

Raven looked angry. “You never told her how you felt.”

Bellamy looked agonized. “I…I…protected her from Finn…”

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “What?” She demanded, voice rising.

Bellamy glanced up, as if he were surprised by what he’d just said. “I…Never told her…”

Raven looked beyond angry, beyond devastation, and rightly so. Clarke was her best friend, along with Octavia. “She’s at Ark, from what I hear.”

Bellamy rose almost instantly, yanking his jacket.

Raven pushed him back gently, and his eyes met hers. “With _Lexa._ Her fake girlfriend, and a damn good killer _._ ” She reminded, shaking her head. “You can’t go. If she sees you…It’s over. You can’t endanger Clarke like that again.”

Bellamy looked like a caged animal, his gaze almost wild with anger. “I…I have to.”

Raven shook her head. “Your _girlfriend_ is outside this door, Bellamy. Not in that hospital.”

She left without another word.

* * *

 

“Is….Is she awake?” Lexa’s voice was quivering. Echo had given her a pullover to wear from her locker, so she’d at least stay warm, as she refused to leave Clarke’s side.

“No, sedatives will have her out for…” Echo glanced at her watch. “-another few hours.” She squeezed Lexa’s shoulder. “You can see her now. I’ll go direct Anya to Lincoln’s room. He’s making a recovery, although…I’m not sure about his leg.” Echo admitted.

Lexa’s heart sank.

She thought of Raven Reyes, and her leg issue.

Lexa was responsible. She was always responsible. These were her people. Her losses. Her pain.

“You can…go in.” Echo reminded with a soft smile as she left Lexa outside Clarke’s door, with only her shallow breaths to keep her steady.

_She’s there. She’s alive. She’s okay._

_Your Clarke is okay._

Lexa had never felt any feeling more terrifying and relieving all at once.

She pushed the door open, inhaling sharply when she saw Clarke, color returned to her cheeks, breathing slowly and rhythmically as she was assisted by several machines, beeping and clicking quietly in the thick silence.

Lexa quietly made her way forward to the single chair in the room, pulling it so that it was beside Clarke. Slowly she found herself sitting, eyes roaming Clarke’s peaceful, resting figure.

She thanked every god, every deity, every lucky star she’d ever learned of, that Clarke was still there with her, safe and mending.

She wanted to steal away Clarke’s pain, to hear her laugh and tell Lexa she was too strict and ate too healthily. She wanted to watch Clarke paint and create, and show her boring documentaries. She wanted to make breakfast for Clarke, and listen to her insanely dramatic grumblings after a hangover. She wanted to assure Clarke that she was whole and good, and nothing would change that. She wanted to tell Clarke she was a hero.

 She wanted all of Clarke, the good and the bad, the painful and the spirited.

Lexa Woods was madly, deeply, unbelievably in love.

And it only took seven months.

Clarke breathed evenly and slowly, and Lexa couldn’t help it. She leaned forward, moisture welling in her emerald eyes, as she took Clarke’s hand in her own, the other gently stroking Clarke’s cheek.

“Hey, Clarke…” She murmured gently, hoping that in some way, in some form…she could hear her.

Clarke’s breathing remained even, and Lexa continued bravely.

“I’m…I’m here.” Lexa spoke gently, breathily. “And…you…you saved me.” Lexa smiled softly through her tears. “And…I…I haven’t…been like this in a long time. I didn’t think I could…open up again. But you made me. You let me…” Lexa inhaled gently, listening to Clarke’s soft breathing. “There’s…so much I have to tell you. But I…just know that…I love you, Clarke.”

Words she could never tell Clarke when she was coherent. Sentiments she could never share, because she’d told Clarke that love was blindness, and it was. She needed to protect Clarke, not to endanger her.

Lexa’s love was toxic. Lexa’s love killed.

Her murmurs were soft, but the kiss she pressed against Clarke’s forehead was even softer. A gentle butterfly’s wings, fluttering against Clarke, laced with intense adoration.

Clarke remained peacefully asleep, her hand in Lexa’s, as Lexa rested her head on Clarke’s chest, listening to the soft rise and fall.

She tried not to let the guilt seep into her being, to let it stop her from being there for Clarke.

She would deal with herself later.

For now, everything was Clarke.

* * *

 

“Why are you coming?” Bellamy asked once more from his position behind the wheel of his car, glancing at Octavia. “She’s not even going to be awake…if she…. made it.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, gripping the wheel with anger.

Lincoln. Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln.

Lincoln, whom Raven had shot.

Lincoln who could have been bleeding out on the pavement.

 _Her Lincoln_.

“Clarke.” Octavia’s response felt like a lie, tasted like a lie. “I’m…worried about her.”

 _Not as worried as you are, apparently_. Octavia couldn’t believe what Raven had told her.

“Really?” Bellamy pressed.

“And…Lexa is going to be there. I know you want to see Clarke but…I’m going with you to ensure there’s no more trouble.”

“If she so much as lays a finger on Clarke…” Bellamy spoke through gritted teeth.

Octavia sighed, shaking her head. “She wouldn’t. She’s crazy about Clarke.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

Octavia shrugged, trying not to seem obvious about her affair with Lincoln. “Clarke said so.”

Bellamy’s knuckles whitened with his tightened grip around the steering wheel.

Had she been so blinded, by her love for Lincoln, that she hadn’t seen what Bellamy had for Clarke? Was it true?

She thought on it for some time, the radio forcing a thick silence between the two siblings.

It was Bellamy who convinced his parents to take Clarke in.

It was Clarke who was there for Bellamy when their parents died.

It was Clarke who went as Bellamy’s date to all his schooling events.

It was Clarke who worried when Bellamy lost himself to the ongoing gang wars, the violence consuming him earlier on.

It was always Clarke and Bellamy.

So why had he so freely pushed her towards Lexa?

Would it kill him if, and when he found out their relationship wasn’t a hoax?

Would he kill her?

Octavia shivered at the thought.

“Cold?” Bellamy asked as he turned the heat up more.

Octavia nodded slowly, closing her eyes as the stress settled in once more.

* * *

 

“Lexa?” The voice was soft, a whisper, gentle and coaxing.

Lexa’s emerald eyes shot open as she sat up, eyes scanning Clarke.

She was still fast asleep, sedatives likely still taking their course on her.

She was still at peace, hand wrapped in Lexa’s, breathing even. Her blonde hair was out of her face, and Lexa wanted nothing more than for her to open those cerulean eyes, to tell her she wal alright.

The voice belonged to Anya.

Lexa licked her dry lips, glancing up in confusion. “Anya? How’s Lincoln?” She murmured quietly.

“Alright.” Anya nodded, her eyes pained. “They gave him something for the pain, too. He’s out.”

Lexa nodded, leaning back in her chair with a reserved sigh. She rubbed the kink in her neck, the one she’d gained from resting her head on Clarke’s chest.

“Let’s go.” Anya murmured, extending her hand to Lexa.

“What?” Lexa’s eyes widened slightly. “Where?”

“Home.” Anya sighed. “You need to change. And get a little rest.”

“I did.” Lexa argued meekly, her eyes still tired and likely a little bloodshot.

Anya smirked. “I don’t count sleeping on your girlfriend’s chest as rest.”

Lexa reddened, and bit back a retort. Anya was just being Anya. “I’m not leaving.”

Anya shook her head. “You have to.”

“I need to be here…when she wakes.” Lexa murmured.

Anya rolled her eyes. “She won’t be going anywhere, something tells me….”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “I’m fine.”

Anya threw up her hands in despair. “It’ll take an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Come. I’ll drive, you can clean up, and be back before Clarke even notices.”

Lexa’s eyes looked glossy as she bit her lip. “I said I wouldn’t leave her alone. I promised.”

Anya glared. “Her mother is here. Echo is here. Her stupid doctor friend…Welles, he’s here. You’ll be here before she wakes up, come on…”

Lexa looked unsure. “What if…it’s not safe? What if…they come back?”

Anya narrowed her eyes this time. “Lexa, they were after you. Not her. I know you feel protective and you’re running on a few hours of sleep but…You’re not making sense. Come on.” Anya turned, shutting the door gently behind her.

Lexa rose slowly, feeling every muscle in her body ache with exhaustion. She stepped forward, brushing a little blonde lock of hair out of Clarke’s forehead, and then pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her temple.

“I’ll be right back.” She whispered softly, reluctantly feeling the great ache of separation as she released Clarke’s warm hand.

* * *

 

“Dr. Wells Jaha?” Bellamy’s baritone voice was demanding, and it made no exception when it found Welles conversing lightly by what was, presumably, Clarke’s room.

If the name Lexa Woods did enough damage to get her special visiting rights, then the name Bellamy Blake had to do the same, if not better.

And so it did.

Wells, glancing up, excusing himself from a conversation with a nearby nurse. His dark eyes took Bellamy in, and widened with shock when he realized who he was confronting.

“Bel…Mr. Blake.” Wells glanced up at one of the hospital’s longtime donors, responsible for hundreds of thousands poured into Ark Hospital. “Wha…what can I do for you?”

He already knew the answer to that.

“Clarke Griffin.” Bellamy breathed out, grateful that Octavia had mysteriously decided to stay in the waiting room. He didn’t want her to see him like this. “Is she okay?”

Wells nodded slowly, clutching his clipboard to his chest as if Bellamy’s question somehow violated doctor-patient confidentiality rules. “She is.”

“Let me see her…” Bellamy sighed, unable to fight the relief that swept through his tone.

Wells lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

Bellamy nodded to the door. “I want to go in…” He gestured, insinuating that Wells needed to move aside.

“You…you can’t just…Someone is in there with her.” Wells spoke somewhat defiantly.

“Who?” Bellamy’s eyes narrowed.

He thought of Lexa Woods, her sharp eyes, her knowing smirk. He thought of Clarke….with her.

His blood boiled as he nearly pushed Wells aside, the heavy door swinging open with force.

His breath hitched.

There was no one with Clarke.

No Lexa Woods.

But god, the sight of her so…broken. Breathing slowly, eyes closed, the machines softly humming and clicking as she did.

He wanted to kill someone.

He wanted to kill Lexa. He wanted to kill Costia. He wanted everyone to suffer.

“I…” Wells protested from behind him. “Alright…” he sighed, closing the door, encapsulating Bellamy and Clarke in their own little slice of hell.

He made his way to the chair by her bedside, his steps heavy like his limbs were made of lead. He lowered himself down with a careful, baited breath, eyeing the sleeping beauty with a sad smile.

“Griff…” Bellamy murmured, as if she’d wake up.

As if she’d throw her arms around him like she had when he’d come home from the academy.

As if she hadn’t just been shot because of his plan.

“Hey…” Bellamy took her hand, surprised to find it so warm to the touch. “I’m…so…so sorry.” Bellamy whispered sullenly. “This was…never supposed to happen like this.”

Clarke never stirred from her drug induced slumber.

“I…I almost lost you, tonight.” Bellamy murmured. “And…I realized there are some things I haven’t told you. I…god, I tried to protect you. But…You were so brave, so…headstrong like O. And when our parents died…you were there for me.” Bellamy’s eyes were teary as he pressed on. “You…made me feel like I was gonna make it, Clarke.” He was inches away from her sleeping face, confessing everything to her like she was priestly.

“Finn…” Bellamy began again, his voice cracking. “I…knew you didn’t love him back. I could see the way Raven looked at him…I…never meant for him to snap, the way he did. But, god, Clarke…” Bellamy breathed like it was painful.

“After I sent him after Lexa’s parents…. for revenge…he did it Clarke. He…he was just a kid. He’d never hurt anybody in his life. So…I told him to make it a car accident. Nice and clean…” Bellamy’s tears slid down his cheeks. “They were dead and he…he couldn’t handle the guilt. Clarke…you should have seen him. He was losing it….and he was closest to you. _You,_ Clarke.” Bellamy inhaled sharply, fighting off another wave of tears. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. I knew he wouldn’t be the same again. I…I….Roan….made it look like he killed himself. I never wanted you to know, Clarke….You never needed this…” Bellamy squeezed her hand.

* * *

 

Bellamy remembered the day like it was seared into his mind.

_“Finn.” He put a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, trying to call him down. His brown, thick hair was matted down by sweat, as he frantically tried to inhale and exhale. “Calm down.”_

_“Bellamy…” Finn’s voice sounded agonized. He wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t cold-blooded, like Raven and Murphy. “I… I can’t…”_

_He was a peacemaker, a friend, a lover._

_Clarke’s boyfriend._

_“You did it.” Bellamy muttered gently. “Two days ago. It’s done. Let it go.”_

_“Their faces!” Finn cried out. “I keep…I keep seeing their faces. Oh, god…they look just like Lexa.” He seethed, eyes wild and feral. “She…she’s never going to see them again. Why me? Why not Raven? Why not Murphy?” Tears were freely sliding down his reddened cheeks._

_Bellamy slapped his gently on the back, “Get it together, Collins! They couldn’t do it because Lexa’s people would notice if they were gone. This was the only way. It looked like a car accident, right? You listened to my instructions?”_

_Finn nodded, vein in his neck pulsing with the pressure of trying not to be sick, to faint._

_He was having a hell of a panic attack._

_Bellamy should have known Finn wasn’t reliable._

_“I….” Finn glanced down, flexing his bare hands. “How…how can I ever touch Clarke again with these….bloody hands?”_

_Bellamy’s eyes darkened at the mention of Clarke’s name. “You won’t.” His voice was tense._

_“I….I what?” Finn repeated, looking as if someone had struck him. “What do you mean?”_

_“You will not tell Clarke anything. You won’t tell anyone, do you hear me? Not Raven, Octavia….anyone.” Bellamy’s voice was icy, just begging Finn to disagree._

_Finn looked up in surprise, eyes glistening with the dread that seeped from him. “Not…not Clarke?”_

_Bellamy’s jaw set. “Especially not Clarke.”_

_Finn was silent, eyes falling to the floor of his apartment, papers spilled everywhere in the midst of his stress attack. He wasn’t coping. He wasn’t functioning. He’d been avoiding Clarke, on Bellamy’s orders._

_He needed her more than ever._

_“Is this going to be a problem?” Bellamy asked gently, bent over by Finn in a half threatening stance._

_Bellamy didn’t care for the answer. He already knew what had to be done._

* * *

 

Clarke’s breathing, slow and even, served as a model for Bellamy. He smiled sadly when he saw no hate, no fear or any response at all.

She could still love him back. That hope hadn’t faded.

Lexa could go to hell. Everything could. Bellamy was getting Clarke back, their fake relationship and relentless war games be damned.

Bellamy was a creature of instinct.

He wasn’t sure how it would feel, when he pressed his lips against Clarke’s just barely touching them.

He’d wanted to kiss Clarke Griffin for so long.

He leaned back, her hand twitching slightly in his.

“Clarke?” Bellamy almost whispered, hope and fear tangible in the air.

Suddenly the vague beeping in the background increased, the speed changing as well as Clarke’s breathing. It was shallow.

She erupted into a coughing fit, still asleep, it seemed.

Bellamy shot up out of his chair.

She needed help.

She needed water.

He was out of the room like the lightning that whipped the sky just hours before.

Just as he headed down the hall, turning the sharp corner, he missed the return of a newly dressed Lexa Woods and Echo, who’d hurried down the exact same hallway from the other end, to the sound of Clarke’s awakening.

If those two rival, battling, rash forces met, it would be the fight to end all fights. The war to end all wars. One of them would surely die, if not both.

And Clarke Griffin wasn’t prepared to take another bullet for anyone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what a disaster...Shit's going down ;)
> 
> (Next time will have Linctavia scenes-couldn't fit it all!)
> 
> I'm at Effortlessly-Opulent on Tumblr if you'd like to see story art, yell at me, or wanna say hi ;)
> 
> To everyone who reads/leaves kudos, comments, etc- thank you so much. You're the reason why I continue this, and I read/reply to each and every one I can! I'm ASTOUNDED by the feedback this tiny story has received. Thank you! They help me improve and write faster ;)Also Thanks to my partner in crime for the story support :)
> 
> Next update is (hopefully) Sunday morning!
> 
> Have you tried my fake dating AU? : http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439
> 
> Or my fluffy canon/ish Clexa piece: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6409051/chapters/14671987


	14. War & Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke wakes up to find devastating developments for both sides.

Clarke’s coughing subsided with every step Lexa took on the lustrous, buffed white floor, bringing her closer and closer to Clarke’s room.

Echo was at her side, trying and failing to tell Lexa that she needed room to check on Clarke.

There was a reason Lexa never did hospitals.

She couldn’t handle the environment, the loss of control, surrendering oneself to a “medical professional”, in hopes that they could handle a life so fragile.

Lexa liked control.

She enjoyed exercising, pushing her body to the extreme limits, running until her legs were weak and her lungs ached. She enjoyed the endurance, the doubt that filled her mind. Sometimes she didn’t know if she’d make it through the burn, but she knew the reward to reap was too sweet not to try. It left her with a rush of endorphins, a sweet ease to her insatiable appetite.

Loving Clarke Griffin was like that.

Lexa was shaken from her thoughts as Echo pushed Clarke’s door open, hustling to the side of her bed to sit her up gently.

Lexa could barely hear over the sound of her pounding heart, the thuds deafening, coupled with the machine’s incessant beeping.

Echo assessed Clarke’s vitals. “She’s waking up.” She murmured calmly.

Lexa’s emerald eyes widened.

Clarke’s coughing subsided fully as her eyelids appeared to flutter momentarily, and then, they shot open.

Everything was painted in the cerulean blue of Clarke’s eyes.

They were so bright, so sharp, so alive.

She was sitting up, chest rising and falling, blonde locks cleaned and falling around her.

Lexa had never been in love with color blue, and now, it was all she ever wanted to see.

Echo bent down to Clarke’s level, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Hey, Clarke.” She spoke gently, reassuringly. “You’re okay. How are you feeling?”

Clarke tried to croak out something, and it came as a barely audible whisper, followed by a cough or two. “Lexa…”

_Lexa._

Clarke was calling her, before her mother, before anyone else. Before answering her doctor.

Lexa was out of the doorframe in seconds, and Clarke’s body literally sighed in relief upon seeing her.

Echo hid a smile. “If you’re alright, I’ll leave you to it?”

Clarke nodded slowly, tiredly.

Lexa couldn’t breathe. Not yet. It was all so unreal.

Echo rose, brushing off her scrubs as she turned to face Lexa.

Lexa gave her a look that said it all. _Will Clarke be okay?_

Echo nodded, motioning to the cup of water she’d left by Clarke’s bedside. “She’ll still be pretty hazy, so no stress, okay?”

Lexa nodded mutely, barely hearing Echo prop the door open behind her as she left.

She approached Clarke slowly, unable to fight the moisture clouding her gaze as she came beside Clarke.

She’d thought about this moment, the likelihood of it even happening, for hours and hours.

And now, she didn’t know what to say.

Clarke’s lazy smile was all she needed, all the urging and prompting she needed to remember the water.

“Here…” Lexa murmured, handing Clarke the small cup. “Drink this first.”

Clarke nodded gratefully as she tilted the cup back, closing her eyes to relish in the soothing, cooling effects the water had on her dry throat.

Lexa had sat back into her seat, which was right up against Clarke’s side, bringing them face to face.

Clarke blinked for a moment, setting the cup down gently. “You’re here.” She murmured quietly.

Lexa, unable to form words past the lump in her throat, settled for a nod.

Clarke leaned forward, and then winced, as her hand flew to her abdomen. She blinked hard for a moment, as if it was all coming back to her.

Lexa was worried in an instant, hand shooting out to grab Clarke’s wrist. “Careful.” She whispered.

Clarke glanced down at her fingers, curled around Clarke’s wrist delicately, and then blue met green when she found her gaze.

Lexa broke first.

Lexa blinked away tears, glancing away for a moment, but Clarke was far too compelling too ignore. “I’m so, so sorry…” Lexa murmured, shaking her head. “This is my fault.”

Clarke looked stunned. “What?” She sounded shocked, taken aback by the mere suggestion.

Lexa glanced up, hate for herself in her gaze. “Clarke…” She breathed gently, fingers lacing with Clarke’s. “I…I promised I’d protect you. I swore it.”

Clarke blinked. “Lexa…”

“Clarke, If I lost you, or Lincoln…” Lexa shook her head, tears now freely staining her cheeks.

“Lexa.” Clarke’s rebuttal was firm.

“Clarke, I couldn’t live with myself. I can’t live with myself, I have to-”

Clarke cut her off, in the only way she could manage. She pressed her lips to Lexa’s, cutting her off mid-ramble as Lexa’s tears rained down on their kiss.

Lexa melted under her touch.

It wasn’t heated, like their first kiss. It wasn’t angry, or deceitful, or lustful.

It was soft, quiet, shy.

It wasn’t overwhelmingly warm or safe.

It was apologetic, at best.

It was Clarke making a promise to Lexa, and Lexa showing her remorse, the guilt that was eating away at her.

But still, it felt like home.

Lexa mumbled against Clarke’s lips, “You saved me…”

Clarke broke off for a moment, forehead pressed against Lexa’s. “I would do it again.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to Lexa’s lips. “And again.” She placed a delicate kiss on the corner of Lexa’s mouth. “And again.” Clarke finished with a kiss on the cheek that left Lexa flushed, stunned into complete silence.

Lexa’s lips were swollen, soft and delicate against Clarke’s as she whispered, “I thought I lost you.”

“Like I said.” Clarke grinned against her. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Lexa’s throaty chuckle sent chills down Clarke’s spine.

* * *

 

Bellamy froze at the sound of footsteps echoing towards Clarke’s room, where her coughing was loud and clear.

“Lexa, let me through.” A female voice sounded, and Bellamy heard the footsteps freeze.

He blinked, glancing down at his belt, wishing he’d brought his gun.

This was a hospital, not the scene for some goddamned western shootout.

He couldn’t just go in there.

What if Lexa used Clarke as leverage? What if she used her like a human shield? Lexa Woods wasn’t above that.

Bellamy’s gaze darkened as he fought his own body’s will, forcing it to go back into the small waiting room, hoping to get backup from his sister.

He couldn’t hear anything else as he distanced himself from Clarke’s room.

He imagined Lexa touching her. Lexa Woods, touching _his_ Clarke.

He was disgusted, thoroughly and utterly disgusted. He’d done this. He’d sent her into Lexa’s lion den.

He pushed his mop of curls out of his face as he exasperatedly stepped into the waiting room, eyes widening in surprise.

There, in front of him, was Anya. Lexa’s second in command.

Despite the bright fluorescent lights that blinded just about everyone else, she was sleeping peacefully, arms folded, head tilted back in her chair.

Bellamy felt the surge to slit her exposed neck. To make her pay for everything.

To send a message to Lexa that he, and his people, were not to be fucked with.

He took a step forward, hand reaching into his jacket pocket. He felt his blade protrude from the left breast pocket. He wrapped his hand around it.

“Mary, line seven!” A chirpy voice from behind him made him wheel around.

The nurses were back at the main desk, buzzing about their endless work cycles.

Bellamy’s gaze darkened as he realized that there was no way he’d pull off killing Anya with so many witnesses.

He had to choose his battles.

Grudgingly, he turned back around.

Where the hell was Octavia? Did Anya hurt her? Was she alright?

He pulled out his phone, frowning when the lit screen displayed no missed calls from his sister.

Octavia always did have a tendency to wander.

He took a few steps forward, plastering on his best fake smile. “Um, excuse me?”

A younger blonde nurse glanced up in surprise. “Yes? Mr. Blake? Oh, what can I do for you?”

Bellamy wanted to inwardly roll his eyes. The only time hospital staff ever treated anyone promptly was when money was on the table.

He was glad, at the very least, that Clarke was admitted with Lexa’s prestige.

“My sister.” Bellamy put on a ruggedly handsome smile. “I just missed her, and we’re going to be late for a meeting. Do you happen to know where she is?”

The nurse’s eyes lit up at an opportunity to help. “Oh, yes! She’s just passing through to…uh…what was it…” she glanced down at her computer.

Bellamy tapped his fingers impatiently.

“Room 13…down the hall, to the left.” The nurse didn’t seem to think twice about the direction she was giving.

Wasn’t that against hospital policy? Not for Bellamy Blake, apparently.

“Right, right…” Bellamy acted like he seemed to know.

_Who the hell was in room 13?_

“Thanks.” Bellamy flashed her a smile as he headed down the hallway, fists clenching at his sides. He did that when he was nervous.

 Something wasn’t adding up.

The lights flickered a little, likely residual results of the passing storm. He walked with long strides, purpose in each step as he approached the heavy wooden door, throwing it open without pause.

Octavia was there, hovering over that…that…brute. Lincoln, that was his name.

She wasn’t touching him, but she had a look of strong remorse in her eyes. Bellamy was lucky enough to have missed that.

His leg was bandaged, raised high up as he slept, likely the result of heavy sedatives.

Octavia’s blue eyes flashed up in surprise when Bellamy stormed in. “Bell!” She whispered, eyes widening. “What are you…how’s Clarke?”

Bellamy blinked. “She…I don’t know. What the hell are you doing in here?”

Octavia balked. “I…I…I thought…Maybe I could…um…”

Bellamy’s eyes darkened as he took in Lincoln’s sleeping figure, every muscle in his taut body crying for release, in the form of a solid beating.

“This the one that Murphy hit?” Bellamy asked.

Octavia nodded. “Yeah. But this time, it was Raven.”

Bellamy blinked. “The fucker just won’t die, huh?”

Octavia nodded slowly, after a brief hesitation to collect herself. “He…he could be paralyzed…” Her voice sounded heavy, as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Bellamy smirked, turning to Octavia. “You know what?” He grinned.

Octavia looked relieved, though, if he’d been listening carefully, he could’ve heard her heart thumping wildly against her chest. “Hmm?”

“I…I saw Anya in the waiting room, sleeping.” Bellamy muttered, shaking his head.

Octavia’s eyes widened. “You…you didn’t….” she shook her head. Anya and Lincoln were the best of friends.

This wouldn’t bode well for either party.

“No.” Bellamy ducked his head. “Too many eyes on her. Impossible to cover that up.”

Octavia shook her head. “Bell, you can’t-”         

“We have to.” Bellamy cut her off with a hiss. “You know it, too. We fucked up at Emerson’s. That embarrassment isn’t going to look good. They’ll start getting aggressive, our people aren’t going to feel the morale…We’ll die out, O.”

Octavia’s blood was boiling. What was he suggesting?

“Killing people does send a message, Bellamy. It says we want war.” Octavia argued. “You don’t make all the decisions anymore. Mom and dad wanted us both to lead.”

Bellamy’s gaze darkened. “We already have war. Someone has to be the bad guy, Octavia.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Someone has to be willing to step up and do what needs to be done.”

Finn Collins flashed through his memory.

Octavia’s jaw set. “This isn’t one of those times, Bellamy. You can’t kill him.”

Bellamy clenched his fists. “We’re not so different, O! You were here because you had to have been thinking along the same lines, right? Killing him?”

Octavia blinked, blue eyes wide with surprise. She couldn’t fathom an approach to an appropriate response.

Bellamy took the silence as confirmation. Brandishing his blade from his jacket pocket, he took a step forward. “Then we are sending a message.”

Octavia stepped forward, but it was too late. “Bellamy, no!”

Bellamy drove the blade into Lincoln’s wound, tearing downward, with one hard thrust.

Octavia’s skin crawled as she heard the tearing of flesh, the jagged knife buried so deep into Lincoln’s leg, that Bellamy had trouble yanking it out cleanly. He wiped it on the inside of his jacket, nearly falling back in shock when Octavia shoved him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Octavia roared, losing all of her sense.

Lincoln’s vitals started skyrocketing- the monitor beginning to beep loudly, likely bringing the room to the attention of the attending staff.

“We have to go!” Bellamy yanked her by the wrist.

Octavia shook her head. “I can’t…We can’t leave him!” She cried out in anguish.

“He won’t die, I promise!” Bellamy hissed. “Why is this so important to you? We need to show Lexa we’re not fucking around anymore!”

“By paralyzing him?” Octavia spat. “Because that’s what he’ll be after this, Bellamy! If they even keep the fucking leg! Who _are_ you anymore?”

“Whatever it takes, O. Family first, remember?” Bellamy growled, watching as she stormed out ahead of him, out of the hallway through the back.

Bellamy didn’t follow.

He had unfinished business.

Clarke was still here, still vulnerable to that monster.

He wouldn’t let Lexa woods take anyone else away.

                                                                                                           

* * *

 

Lexa Woods knew she could never be with Clarke Griffin.

Not while she was such a monster, a target, a threat.

It wasn’t a question of love, or her dedication, and it _certainly_ wasn’t a question of attraction.

It was Clarke’s safety that worried her. Clarke’s well-being.

Lexa wasn’t used to caring too much for one individual. Costia ensured that when she left in the wake of Lexa’s parents’ deaths.

But Clarke Griffin was all she had. _And didn’t have_. Because she couldn’t get too close, to compromise her safety.

Lexa Woods was the true Wanheda.

She wrought death everywhere she stepped, leaves turned black beneath where she’d trodden. She was the coldest winter and Clarke was the fresh birth of spring, the aroma of fresh petals on a breeze.

Abby had said that Lexa ruined her.

She wasn’t wrong.

Lexa was done dragging Clarke into her deep chasm of regret and anguish.

Clarke deserved to be loved by someone who could love her in the light, who would keep her out of harm’s way.

And yet, their foreheads were still pressed against each other, words to feeble to express their whims on such an occasion.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Clarke murmured, her lips tingling against Lexa’s. “Don’t even go there.”

Lexa’s jaw set, and her gaze was clouded with guilt. “This isn’t something you can talk me out of, Clarke. I saw what happened.”

Clarke huffed. “What will you do now?”

Lexa stiffened, leaning back into her seat, breathless and afraid. “I…I don’t know.”

It was the first time she was rendered truly…plan-less. It was terrifying.

“I could…” Clarke trailed off at Lexa’s hard gaze. “What?”

“You’re not doing anything.” Lexa muttered in a whisper.

Clarke clenched her jaw. “You can’t do that. You need me.”

Lexa mirrored her expression. “The sacrifices I make…I make for my people.”

Clarke looked at her with defiant blue eyes. “I am your people.”

Lexa sighed. “You’re…not.”

Clarke’s hurt expression was quickly remedied by her following words.

“You’re different. You…elevate yourself.”

The unspoken words were there.

It was back to the tension, the pain. Clarke couldn’t even believe that they’d shared such a brief, intimate kiss just moments before.

It was like Lexa was shutting her out, out of guilt.

Clarke couldn’t bear that.

“How’s Lincoln?” Clarke murmured gently.

“He’s…healing.” Lexa smiled sadly.

“It’s not your fault, Lexa.”

“It is, by default. I…I give out the commands. I was the reason why he was there.” Lexa sighed, running a hand through her hair. “He’s alright, though. He’s alright.”

Clarke nodded slowly. The burden of leading must have been something else. Bellamy must have realized that burden.

Clarke’s soul ached for those who had to make such difficult decisions alone, in the dark, without the comfort of friendship or counsel.

They weren’t afforded those luxuries, it seemed.

“Anya?” Clarke asked.

“With Lincoln, I think.” Lexa murmured. “She told me to send her regards when we heard you were waking.”

Clarke smirked a little to herself. “I’ve grown on her.”

“You have…don’t tell her that though, it’ll undo the progress.” Lexa murmured with a wry smile.

She couldn’t get over how beautiful Clarke Griffin was.

How she yearned to touch her, to hold her…to love her.

All the yearning she had to bury inside because of how imminent and lethal the outside threat was.

Lexa wondered how they could’ve met differently, under far tamer circumstances.

She could have been an artist, and Lexa a lawyer, or hell, maybe a shop-owner. Something small, cozy, pressure-less. She could play the piano for Clarke every evening, while they shared wine and talked about their ordinary days and their ordinary lives.

Without pain, without sacrifice, without loss and leadership.

Instead, she was a killer, and Clarke, the opposite. A healer, a defender of life.

How cruel fate was.

“What about Costia?” Clarke’s murmur was almost sheepish, as if she were afraid to ask.

Clarke put her life on the line for Lexa. She could ask whatever she wanted. She had that right, at least, in Lexa’s mind.

“I…” Lexa trailed off. “I’m not sure.”

Clarke wasn’t asking for the past. She was asking for the future. For Lexa’s next move.

“You can’t keep lying to Bellamy.” Lexa murmured, shaking her head. “I won’t do this to you.”

Clarke’s face fell into a frown. “I can’t…Then I’d have to choose sides, or…or leave D.C. or something…. I can’t…I can’t just be s _tuck_ between you.”

“Clarke.” Lexa wrapped her hand around Clarke’s, squeezing gently. “I’m not asking you to choose, or leave. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Clarke looked awfully upset, her voice unsure of itself as it sounded. “You’re…you’re letting me go?”

Lexa looked like she was holding back tears. “This is a war that isn’t going to end anytime soon, Clarke. I…I thought that I could use you, somehow. I…originally saw you as a way to weaken Bellamy, to put an end to this…But…I was wrong. If it endangers you…I…I can’t ask that of you anymore.”

Clarke’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “And what?” She scoffed. “I don’t see you anymore? We pretend this never happened? That…we…you and I…. never happened?”

Echo’s words replayed in Lexa’s mind. No stress. She had to drop it, at least until Clarke was well enough to leave the room.

Lexa sighed as Clarke leaned against her, warmth radiating from her. “I…I don’t know.” She admitted.

Lexa Woods always had a plan.

And now, to be left alone without any inkling of what to do and where to go, especially without Clarke, the one person who saw whatever human part of her remained…

Death itself looked more welcoming.

* * *

 

Bellamy leaned outside Clarke’s hospital room door, grateful for the surrounding noises to muffle his sounds.

He had to even his breathing incredibly, eyes always alert in case someone had tracked him down after the events in Lincoln’s room.

His heart was pounding in his chest. He tried not to close his eyes, just to stare at the large, wooden door, opened before him.

He couldn’t go in.

That would endanger Clarke, and that was the last thing he wanted.

But he could listen.

He could wait for that moment, that golden opportunity for her to give something away, to weaken herself.

And he could use it to strike.

He tuned in to their conversations like he would a radio, slowly channeling everything else out until it was Clarke’s husky voice and Lexa’s…hard breathing? _Panting?_

Curiously, he tilted his head to the point where he could see, just barely, through the slit in the open door, where it was hinged to the wall.

Clarke and Lexa were _kissing_ , Clarke was murmuring something to her, eyes heavy with affection. Lexa’s gaze was cast down, but Clarke was holding her chin up, pouring all of her energy into Lexa’s lips.

Bellamy felt sick. He felt like he’d been hit by an anvil.

Clarke was a particularly gifted actress, by the looks of it.

It almost seemed _real._

A vein in Bellamy’s forehead throbbed as he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

In the distance, he could hear shouting, likely towards Lincoln’s room.

He stayed light on his toes, but his focus was on Lexa Woods, with her hands on _his_ Clarke.

The Clarke he’d rescued, defended, and cared for.

His best friend, first and foremost.

And then the words came, they fell to Bellamy with crushing force, unlike the soft pitter-patter of rain on the windows.

It was the storm itself, the dark, angry clouds that heaved derision and betrayal with every passing second.

Lexa first. _“You can’t keep lying to Bellamy.” “I won’t do this to you.”_

Clarke’s rebuttal. _“I can’t…Then I’d have to choose sides, or…or leave D.C. or something…. I can’t…I can’t just be stuck between you.”_

Choose sides?

Bellamy’s headache flared as he shook.

 _Clarke, his Clarke_. The same Clarke who would smile brightly at him and kiss his cheek every morning, the same Clarke who cried on his shoulder after Finn.

The Clarke he wanted to spend his life with.

The Clarke he’d orchestrated everything for.

She was torn? Torn between him and the monster Lexa Woods? The ruthless murderer?

The woman whose family murdered his parents?

The one person he swore he’d exact revenge on?

“Clarke.” _And then Lexa had wrapped her hand around Clarke’s, squeezing gently, suffocating Bellamy with every little motion, every stupid whisper and murmur._

How dare she touch Clarke, how dare she manipulate her like that.

Clarke wasn’t a Grounder. Clarke was an Arker. Clarke was his.

 “I’m not asking you to choose, or leave. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Lexa’s voice sounded as his violent, repulsive thoughts rattled through his stress-addled brain.

Clarke looked awfully upset, her voice unsure of itself as it sounded. “You’re…you’re letting me go?”

Clarke was so deeply into this mess. So backwards and pathetically confused.

Bellamy wondered if she had taken trauma to the head.

This wasn’t the plan; this was never the plan.

Lexa looked like she was holding back tears. “ _This is a war that isn’t going to end anytime soon, Clarke. I…I thought that I could use you, somehow. I…originally saw you as a way to weaken Bellamy, to put an end to this…But…I was wrong. If it endangers you…I…I can’t ask that of you anymore.”_

Bellamy gritted his teeth, taking a step forward, a guttural growl rising in the back of his throat.

This had to end, one way or another, sooner, rather than later.

And then _they_ came running, from behind him.

Anya, Wells, that brunette doctor he’d seen hanging around Lexa…

They were all coming.

Stifling a curse, Bellamy kicked off his heels with excessive force as he made a run for the doors.

He didn’t want them to know that he knew about Clarke’s betrayal.

That would be a disadvantage.

No, he wanted them to pay. He wanted them to suffer sleepless nights like he had, to know the pain of sacrifice and the agony of a betrayal so close to the family.

He wanted to murder Lexa Woods.

He wanted Clarke back.

* * *

 

“Mom.” Clarke’s voice was fragile as Abby entered, in her Doctor’s attire, looking sleepless and incredibly overwhelmed.

“Clarke.” Abby breathed, rushing to her bedside opposite Lexa. “Thank god, you’re alright.”

“Wells did a number on me.” Clarke replied, leaning up to accept her mother’s hug.

It was tense, sure, but near-death situations seemed to bring out the best in the family.

Lexa watched with a lowly gaze, unwilling to interrupt. “Excuse me.” She cleared her throat gently.

“No.” Clarke caught her wrist, and of course, the contact burned Lexa like the sweetest Kryptonite. “Stay.”

Abby watched with a raised brow.

Lexa looked unsure. “I… I can be right outside your door.”

Clarke shook her head, and Lexa gestured to her chair. “Please, Dr. Griffin, sit.”

Abby nodded, thanking her as Lexa came over to Clarke’s other side.

Lexa was very aware that Clarke’s fingers were brushing against her thigh, beckoning her as close as possible.

As if she were scared Lexa would disappear if she let her out of her sight. 

“I know you have to be aching to know…” Clarke began with a sigh.

Abby looked on intently. “I am, Clarke. How does my daughter, a doctor, get shot in one of the wealthiest districts in the nation’s capital?”

Clarke glanced down.

Lexa spoke up, not wanting to foster any lies between the two. “It’s _my_ fault.”

Abby’s gaze hardened slightly, and Lexa realized that not all was forgiven since their spat earlier when Clarke’s status was unsure.

“It’s not.” Clarke defended. “She’s lying.”

Lexa’s eyes widened. She was unsure of whether to step in or not. It was Clarke’s relationship, but Lexa had a right to protect it too, didn’t she?

Abby sighed. “The truth. I’m not interested in blame, it’s clear you did this out of love…”

Both girls froze in place.

“I…” Clarke shook her head. “I…”

Abby bit her lip. “It’s-..”

Echo interrupted just then, poking her head in through the door, earning a glare from Abby.

“Lexa?” Echo’s voice was panicked.

Clarke looked up in concern.

Lexa whipped around, her Commander persona surfacing. “What is it?”

“It…It’s Lincoln. _Osir souda hos op_ , _Heda._ ” Echo spewed the words like they were poisonous, and Lexa’s eyes widened.

Abby looked dumbstruck at the language, and Clarke looked stunned that all this time, Echo was one of Lexa’s people.

“Clarke.” Lexa turned around, eyes pleading.

Clarke nodded slowly, trying to rise out of bed herself to follow, “I…I can help.”

“No, no…” Abby rose, putting a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “You can’t be up yet; we have to run tests…”

“Mom!” Clarke’s voice sounded desperate.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s eyes met hers, and like it was a sedative, Clarke stilled. “Please.” Her voice begged Clarke to stay out of the way, safe with her mother. “I’ll be back.”

Lexa and Echo practically ran out of the room, leaving Clarke with a very curious Abby.

* * *

 

“What the hell was that?” Abby asked, seating herself once more.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Clarke shrugged, feeling her lie fall apart. “Uh…Russian, maybe?”

Abby’s eyes narrowed. “You never were a good liar.”

Clarke’s jaw set, and she was reminded of how much she’d been with Lexa lately. “Yeah? Well that makes one of us.”

Abby’s look showed that Clarke’s retort stung. “I…Clarke.”

Clarke heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I’m worried about Lincoln. He’s our…friend.”

Abby looked at her incredulously. “Oh, you mean the other one who got shot?”

Clarke glanced away uncertainly. “…yes.”

“And you’re going to try to tell me there’s no correlation?” Abby sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Clarke leaned back in exasperation. “No, mom, I’m not really going to tell you anything.”

Abby looked defiant. “Like hell you’re not.”

“Ugh.” Clarke growled. “Why are you so stubborn?”

Abby shook her head, dry laughter shaking her body. “Look who’s talking! I guess it runs in the family.”

Clarke cracked a wry smile of her own, her eyes tracing the pattern of the plainly decorated hospital room walls.  

Despite the oddness, it felt good to have Abby back in her life. She didn’t know why or how, but the love, though buried, was still there.

“So you’re sleeping with Lexa?” Abby asked after a moment.  

“Mom!” Clarke reddened immediately. “I’m not…eighteen, okay? I…You don’t get to…”

“Oh..” Abby sighed. “You’re not sleeping with her, then.”

Clarke bit her lip. “Things are complicated, okay?”

Abby smiled softly, running her hand over Clarke’s hair. “When aren’t they, sweetie?”

Clarke shook her head. “I…I made a mistake.” Her voice was heavy with emotion.

Abby shifted in her seat, her expression changing. “You saved Lexa. That was a mistake?”

Clarke shook her head once more. “No, not that! I…with _Bellamy_.”

Abby nodded slowly. “They’re connected. Aren’t they? Lexa and Bellamy?”

Clarke nodded, eyes closing for a moment.

“You…you’re caught between.” Abby was absent for a good chunk of Clarke’s life, but she still had a hell of a brain. “God, Clarke…I never wanted you to get mixed up in this.”

“You…you knew?” Clarke breathed raggedly.

“Sweetie, this was generational. The Blakes were family friends. I…I had my suspicions.”

“So why’d you let me stay?” Clarke sniffled.

“I…I thought Bellamy was different.” Abby confessed. “I didn’t think they’d involve their own children!”

Clarke felt tears, hot and exposing, slide down her cheeks.

“Oh, my poor baby…” Abby sighed, pulling Clarke into her embrace.

Clarke crumbled into her arms like she did as a child.

“You don’t have to choose.” Abby murmured into her hair.

Clarke stifled a sob, one that was stuck in her throat. “I don’t?”

“You’ve already chosen, honey.” Abby’s words echoed through Clarke’s ears, as she froze in her mother’s arms.

* * *

“God dammit Lexa!” Anya roared as Lexa held her back from going into Lincoln’s room for the umpteenth time. “Let me go!”

The room was overflowing with medical staff working to alleviate something. Lexa wasn’t entirely sure what went wrong.

“Anya, _Chil yu daun_!” Lexa’s command was sharp in her ear, and she finally succumbed to the strong arms restraining her from behind.

Anya heaved a sigh before she turned, tears running down her cheeks. “He…He hasn’t woken up yet, Lexa.”

“What…What happened?” Lexa ventured cautiously, her instincts telling her to run back to Clarke’s room in defense. “I thought the surgery went well?”

Anya’s jaw clicked as she clenched her teeth. “Those fucking Ark bastards.”

Lexa’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, Anya?” Lexa shook her shoulders, startling her back to reality, out of the chasm of hate. “What did they do?”

Anya never cried.

This had to have been the worst crime she’d witnessed.

And they’d seen plenty.

“Is….is he…” Lexa began weakly.

“He’s not dead.” Anya spat out. “But knowing him, he’ll want to be.”

“Anya!” Lexa growled. “Out with it! Come on!”

Echo ducked into the hallway, her head bowed, wringing her gloved hands.

“No…” Lexa shook her head, covering her mouth in horror.

What was happening to her people?

“He…is okay.” Echo began slowly, wincing at the sighs of relief. The next part was going to hurt even more because of it.

“But…” Echo began again with a sigh. “He’s suffered massive trauma to his femoral nerve. I…” she paused, unsure of how to put it. “I doubt he’ll ever be fully functional with that leg again.”

Lexa’s heart stopped. Her head was pounding, pulsing, as Anya let out a cry of rage, slamming the wall of the hallway in anguish.

“You…you can’t be serious.” Anya shook her head, laughing, as crazy as it was. “You’re kidding.”

Lexa grabbed Echo’s shoulders, trying desperately to keep a straight face. “Echo. Whatever the cost, I will personally see-”

Echo cut her off with a depressed shake of the head. “I…I can’t, Lexa. No one can.”

Lexa’s fists balled as she whipped around, her cell phone blaring into the hallway.

Anya continued to grow angrier and angrier, as Echo grew concerned, trying to calm her. “So that’s Bellamy’s move?” She growled. “Make another fucking cripple like the Reyes girl?”

Echo glanced away at the brutal comment.

Lexa rubbed her temples.

The ringing.

The crying.

Clarke.

Lincoln.

Anya.

Her people.

Their people.

The incessant beeping.

The screams of pain.

“It’s Lexa.” Her voice was frozen, icy cold as she answered without glancing at the caller ID.

She needed the distraction, her mind couldn’t take any more.

“ _Heda_. South exit. Bellamy Blake.” Gustus’ voice rumbled through the speaker. “I was leaving. Should I stop him?”

A pause.

One moment to decide everything.

Life or death.

Mercy or violence.

Peace or war.

Lexa knew there was no choice.

There was no life, no mercy, no peace.

That was Clarke Griffin’s world.

 _This_ was Lexa Woods’ world.

“Don’t stop him, Gustus. Leave.” Lexa replied into the phone as she shut it off, thankful that Anya was too busy agonizing over Lincoln to notice her storm down the hall.

“I’m going to stop him.” She muttered to herself as she made for the south exit.

* * *

 

The clouds clumped together and rolled over the city like grey, lifeless waves, sucking away the happiness and energy of all those it encountered.

The winds were blowing the last of the storm out, and luckily, the rains had ceased.

This was the aftershock of the storm, it seemed.

“Octavia!” Bellamy roared into the empty back parking lot, hoping that she hadn’t walked away from him like he knew she had.

It was a sad denial, anything to avoid admitting that his last family member hadn’t given up on him, hadn’t left him.

And for what?

For doing the right thing, for doing what he always did.

Bellamy stepped up, and he protected everyone. He got a message across to Lexa by crippling her best body guard.

He’d done everything right.

And where was his sister to support him? To congratulate him?

He eyed the Cadillac with disdain. He bent over, peering through the tinted windows of his car, hoping to god she would peer back at him angrily.

At least she’d be there. Not missing, carless, with all the Grounder scum nearby.

He shuddered at the thought of what those _savages_ might do to her.

He thought of the way Lexa had manipulated, no… _brainwashed_ Clarke, and his beaten heart broke again.

The pain he felt was nothing compared to the pain of his head going through the now shattered window, forced there by a strong, trained hand.

“Fuck!” Bellamy cried out as he felt a cut open on his forehead, blood pouring down his face.

“You just couldn’t stay away, Bellamy.” Lexa Woods was forcing his head over the edge, her voice low, tense, unreal.

She’d shed her jacket, her tribal tattoos flaring under tight, muscled arms. She looked furious.

Bellamy kicked with his back leg, sharply connecting with her abdomen as she stumbled back, giving him the opportunity to wheel around a shard of glass in his hands from the now shattered, supposedly shatterproof window.

“You bitch.” Bellamy sneered, blood trickling down into his vision. “You should’ve left Emerson’s place alone. Now your people are dying because of it.”

Lexa’s jaw tightened as rage engulfed her virid gaze. “You didn’t have to come here. You didn’t. But now? For what you did to Lincoln, I’m going to make sure every single one of you fucking Ark bastards meets the same fate as your parents.”

Bellamy knew not to bring Clarke into it. That would give him away.

Instead, he forgot completely about her. He could save her later.

His focus was on murdering Lexa.

He lunged forward, his eyes locking with Lexa’s as he lashed out with the glass shard.

Lexa kicked out with expert timing, her thick boot breaking the shard with its heel as Bellamy’s hand got cut, blood dripping onto the pavement.

“You know, you were always pathetic like this, even in school!” Bellamy fired at her, watching her calculate her next move. “Always pining over Costia, always blinded by love!”

Still, without faltering, Bellamy pushed into a tackle, taking Lexa by surprise as he pushed her into the brick wall behind her, satisfied when she uttered a cry of pain before kneeing him the jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.

Lexa looked worked up by his words, balling her hand into a tight fist as clobbered the side of his face, hearing a solid smack as her fist connected with his face. “Enough.” She growled, lowly, gutturally.

Lexa was dead.

This was the Commander.

 _Why Clarke?_ It ran through Bellamy’s mind incessantly. _Their lips, pressed against each other._ Clarke turning on him, again and again. What did he see in her?

He could get her back; he could get Clarke back.

Lexa Woods had to die.

Bellamy reached into his jacket pocket for the blade he’d sunk into Lincoln’s flesh, watching Lexa’s eyes flash with recognition.

He slashed out, managing to catch the very edge of the sharp blade on Lexa’s cheek, as it rapidly oozed out crimson blood.

Lexa dodged his next attempt quickly, catching his wrist in mid action.

And then, very simply, it became a metaphor for their war. A struggle of two immensely gifted powers, ruthlessly giving all they had to destroying one another.

They were both panting, heaving, chests unable to satisfy their need for air as they dueled, Bellamy guiding the dagger towards Lexa’s throat, and Lexa pushing it towards his exposed jugular.

And then, with a loud crack, the doors swung open, revealing Abby Griffin.

The blade clattered to the floor as they both separated, heaving still.

Bellamy cleared his throat and turned, taking off for his now damaged car at lightning speeds.

Lexa leaned her head against the brick wall ashamedly, blood trickling down her face as she turned to face Abby, who was looking at her with her lips pressed in a grim line. 

Neither Lexa Woods nor Bellamy Blake died, that day.

Abby glanced at Lexa, beckoning her forward, back into the safety of the hospital, putting her hand on the small of Lexa’s back.

“Come on, honey.” Abby spoke tersely, but there was an edge of…pity? Was it sympathy? “You’re safe. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

It seemed, then, that Abby Griffin had chosen sides, too.

 

* * *

 

“You shouldn’t be up.” Lexa’s voice was hard, tense as she heard footsteps in the small room Echo had given her.

She was awaiting Echo or Abby to patch her up, but she knew those tentative steps to be Clarke’s. She wheeled around, eyes widening to find Clarke fully dressed, clean and changed, as if she were about to leave the hospital. “Clarke!” She hissed. “What are you doing?”

Clarke’s expression was one of utter concern. “Sit.” She commanded, one hand clutching her patched up wound, from over her clothing.

Lexa’s jaw clenched as she felt the dry blood on her cheek. “Clarke.” She warned in an even tone.

“Lexa, sit.” Clarke’s tone was final, and she stepped forward, forcing Lexa back against the examination table.

Clarke took out the necessary items with such familiarity that Lexa remembered how this used to be her domain, her home before the office.

She’d almost forgotten Clarke was a doctor.

Maybe Clarke had almost forgotten she was a killer, a gangster.

Ignorance really was bliss.

“Oh, god.” Clarke murmured as she brandished a bottle of what appeared to be rubbing alcohol, her eyes tracing the cut on Lexa’s cheek. “Are you alright?” The concern was evident in her blue gaze and quiet tone.

Lexa nodded quietly, unsure of what else to say.

Clarke glanced up at her. “Who was it?”

Lexa remained silent, as Clarke tilted her chin delicately and dabbed at the wound, knowing better than to expect Lexa to flinch at such an acute pain.

“Bellamy.” Lexa croaked from behind Clarke’s hand.

Clarke glanced down and noticed her hands were shaking. Her eyes widened. “Jesus, Lexa.” She took Lexa’s hands in her own, and Lexa was amazed that she cared more about Lexa than Bellamy’s well-being.

“I….” Lexa was shaking with rage, pent up anger and frustration. “I’m going to kill them all. Everyone who gets in my way.” She growled.

Clarke didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. Was this the old, real Lexa surfacing? Was it all just bravado?

“What happened?” Clarke murmured gently, thumb rubbing over Lexa’s hand.

Lexa glanced down, and the two separated. “Lincoln.” She whispered, shaking her head. “They…they…paralyzed him.”

“What?” Clarke gasped, dropping the bandage she was holding. She bent to retrieve it, and gasped in pain through clenched teeth as her balance wavered and her hands shot to her abdomen.

Lexa's hands reached out, wrapping around her waist instantly, pulling her steadily up, worry in her green eyes. "Clarke." Her voice was pleading. "Please, go back to bed."

Clarke Griffin was a tough son a bitch. She shook her head, eyes watering. 

Lexa couldn't tell if it was from the pain or the mention of Bellamy.

She felt a ghosting, necessary ache as she removed her hands from Clarke's waist, wishing she could have done more.

She found herself wishing that a lot, lately.

“Bellamy did? What are you talking about?” Clarke asked, fear and anger evident in her tone.

Lexa’s jaw set. “Bellamy drove a knife right through his wound, where the bullet clipped him. Echo says he will not be able to use that leg again, most likely.”

Clarke froze, mind running through all the different justifications Bellamy could have had.

There really weren’t many.

Death was one thing, but torture? Like that? Had he found out Octavia and Lincoln were involved?

Clarke let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I…I’m so so sorry…” She breathed.

She wanted to cry, but her eyes were like dry wells. She couldn’t anymore.

Lexa glanced up, gaze darkened. “As am I.”

This was not Clarke’s Lexa. Not fully. This was the elusive, pragmatic, unfeeling side of her.

Clarke knew she had to be reasoned with, but how could she justify Bellamy’s actions? What could ever justify that monstrosity?

“You….you can’t kill them.” Clarke breathed, stepping forward.

Lexa merely glanced up at her disdainfully. “Oh? Have you thought of a way to save your people yet again?”

The words stung, the way she delivered them brutally, with precision like the way she through knives.

Clarke knew she was distraught.

“I can’t save them.” Clarke murmured, shaking her head.

Lexa looked satisfied in her pain.

“You can.” Clarke suggested gently. “You can stop your side from attacking.”

Lexa’s face shifted for a moment before her tough façade was back in place. “Why would I?” She spoke lifelessly.

Clarke found her eyes, begging, pleading for her to open back up. “Because…slaughtering them…that’s not you.”

“Yes, Clarke, it is.” Lexa retorted sharply.

“But you’d need me for that.” Clarke pressed.

“And you will help me.” Lexa spoke lowly, threateningly.

This time, Clarke knew better.

This time, Clarke knew it was all lies, a façade, a mask. Lexa wasn’t that person. Lexa would never hurt her. Today was evidence of that.

This was her residual anger, manifesting itself towards Clarke.

“So, what? You’re gonna keep me here like a prisoner until I help you?” Clarke asked in a sharp tone.

“Yes.” Lexa replied stiffly, stifling a sigh.

Clarke rolled her eyes at the stubbornness of Lexa’s actions.

“Well, I guess I have Stockholm Syndrome, because I’m worried about that cut.” Clarke murmured as she took a step forward, cupping Lexa’s cheek as she began to clean it once more.

Lexa sighed and subconsciously melted into Clarke’s touch, grateful for the interaction, the connection it brought.

Fighting Clarke was such a hopeless case.

“How can you defend them?” Lexa whispered against Clarke’s touch. “After…what he did…”

Clarke thought for a moment, deft hands working on Lexa’s injuries like the first time she’d cleaned Lexa’s wound.

Everything was coming full circle.

“I…” Clarke felt heavier with each word she uttered. “I…I have to believe that there’s another way to end all this. That there can be light at the end of this dark, dark road. I have to. I have to believe that maybe, somehow…we can coexist. That we can change, and stop living in fear and contempt. I have to believe that, Lexa.”

Lexa sighed, her cheek against Clarke’s warm hand. “I…That’s why I…. That’s why you’re you.” Lexa offered her a sad smile, the unspoken words never tumbling out of her lips.

Clarke’s proposal was one of peace.

Unbeknownst to any of them, peace was a distant memory.

It was time for a real war.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was heavy...Now Bellamy knows...Uh Oh.  
> If you still think he's infinitely more villainous here than on the show, a reminder- (he didn't massacre an entire peacekeeping force...yet). ;)
> 
> (You can yell at me and chat me up OR send me prompts @ effortlessly-opulent  
> On tumblr!!)
> 
> Thank you all so much for the positive feedback, support, and kind words about this all over the place. If you liked it, I always appreciate kudos, comments, and spreading the word ;) Special thanks to my partner in crime!
> 
> The Fake Dating AU was updated on Wednesday (Its new official day) for all of you who didn't see it: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439
> 
> And the fluffy canon divergence story sits at 2 chapters: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6409051


	15. Blood Must Not Have Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke attempts to save Bellamy's people from Lexa's, and of course, everything gets worse.

Clarke and Lexa hadn’t really spoken for nearly a week after the hospital affair.

It was Lexa’s fault.

Like some recluse, she’d heard Clarke’s pleadings for peace and to give everyone a second chance, and then withdrew into her work.

She’d not allowed Clarke to come to work, even going so far as to post someone out by the office building main entrance, barring Clarke from getting inside.

Clarke hadn’t actually seen her since she’d patched up the cut on her cheek.

Since she’d held her shaking hands after her bout with Bellamy.

Since she’d kissed her full lips and wiped away her tears.

Every part of her missed Lexa Woods.

Every fiber of her being, every inch of her heart and soul.

Every minute of every day.

And yet, Lexa pulled back.

Clarke couldn’t help but feel afraid. She didn’t fully understand her feelings for Lexa. She knew that they were fiery, passionate, and intensely powerful. She didn’t need to understand them, not yet. She needed to share them with Lexa, to open up her heart with reckless abandon and to throw caution to the wind.

She couldn’t do that if Lexa withdrew.

What if Lexa didn’t share her feelings?

What if Lexa no longer cared about Clarke?

Clarke remained out of contact with her, wincing every time her calls were ignored, and her texts were lost in the unanswered void.

Clarke buried herself into Lincoln, then. She studied, read up on his injury, on his condition.

Hell, she volunteered to be the doctor to break it to him when he came to.

It was, in fact, a brutal moment. One of the hardest in her life.

It was almost more painful than the bullet she took.

She remembered it so vividly that the moment manifested itself in all of her nightmares. Which she’d had no shortage of.

Most of them ended with Lexa dying somehow, and Clarke would wake up gasping for air.

It was becoming harder and harder to simply exist.

* * *

 

_Clarke was there when Lincoln came to for the first time after both incidents, his leg patched up as best as the hospital could manage._

_Clarke felt awful, knowing that Octavia should have been there, and yet she wasn’t._

_Clarke hadn’t spoken to Octavia since the accident, but she knew, from the bottom of her heart, that Octavia never would have condoned this kind of treatment, certainly not to Lincoln. To be fair, though, Clarke never though Bellamy was capable of such a monstrous act, either._

_But, then again, Clarke’s malleable world seemed to redefine its own boundaries every day._

_The soft humming of the machines gave way to Lincoln’s shallow breathing, which increased as his dark eyes fluttered open, immediately scanning the room for threats. He tensed up, trying to sit up to gain a better vantage point in his unfamiliar surroundings._

_His eyes found Clarke and he seemed to deflate back to a resting position._

_Clarke’s soul ached for him._

_Lexa was right behind Clarke, a supportive hand on her lower back._

_Anya was escorted out of the hospital by Gustus, having lost her temper before even being able to see Lincoln._

_And so it came down to Clarke and Lexa to clean the mess they’d so blamelessly adopted as their own._

_Lexa offered to give the news, but Clarke knew she was still emotional. Clarke was a doctor, after all._

_Lexa stepped forward, kneeling beside Lincoln’s bed._

_“Lexa.” Lincoln, even now, dipped his head in respect._

_“Lincoln…” Lexa murmured, taking his head into her hands as they touched foreheads, her eyes almost watering._

_Clarke watched the scene unravel before her, as if her heart were set alight by their hushed whispers._

_Not many words were said, but the message conveyed was still clear._

_“Strisis.” Lincoln murmured with a lazy smile as Clarke stepped forward, taking his outstretched hand and squeezing it, “you live.”_

_“Thanks to Lexa.” Clarke murmured, chancing a glance at Lexa, who shook her head in denial._

_Now wasn’t the time to argue that, however._

_“Lincoln…” Clarke began unsurely._

_“I can’t move it.” Lincoln’s voice was not icy, or cold. It was not devoid of life, or rage, or sorrow and self-pity. It was simply…Lincoln. It was calm and understanding. “My leg.”_

_“I…” Clarke took in a breath. “You deserve to know what happened.”_

_“Octavia…shot me, to protect herself.” Lincoln began, his voice raw with emotion. “I know.”_

_“No.” Lexa shook her head, her tone defiant._

_“She actually didn’t. It was Raven.” Clarke murmured._

_Lincoln’s eyes lit up, but Lexa wheeled around on Clarke. “What difference does it make?”_

_Clarke bit her lip, knowing it made a world of difference to Lincoln. His love hadn’t tried to kill him._

_“It was Bellamy.” Lexa turned back to Lincoln._

_Lincoln’s brow furrowed. “What?” He repeated. “He wasn’t there.”_

_“No, he wasn’t but…They were here.” Clarke answered gently._

_Lincoln’s eyes widened. “A second attack? Oh, god, is Anya okay?”_

_Clarke nodded. “You…were the victim, Lincoln. Everyone else is alright.”_

_Lincoln’s voice sounded caught in his throat. “I…was the victim?”_

_Lexa’s voice was a guttural growl. “That fucking Blake girl came in here, to do god knows what, and her bastard brother ended up…” she gestured to his leg. “I should have been here, Lincoln. I’m so sorry.” Her voice nearly broke as she plead for his forgiveness._

_Clarke’s eyes widened as she watched the two console each other and pour their souls out to one another all at once._

_“No, no…” Lincoln murmured. “You were with Clarke. Don’t ever regret that.”_

_Lexa nodded slowly, taking his hand. “Anything you want, Lincoln. It’s yours, I swear it.”_

_Lincoln shook his head, his eyes heavy with fatigue and emotion. “Nothing, Heda. Just to come back to your service.”_

_Lexa’s eyes widened. She was about to open her mouth to debate it, when Clarke cut her off._

_“Okay, Lincoln. Anya wants to see you. We can go get her, but…rest, okay?”_

_Lincoln nodded. “You too, Clarke. I’m glad you’re still with us.”_

_Clarke smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad to be here, Lincoln.” She murmured as she nodded to him, Lexa holding the door for her as the two slipped out quietly._

_Neither of them saw the silent tears that streamed down Lincoln’s cheeks as they left._

* * *

 

Lexa had avoided Clarke for a week, but she’d finally broken the silence with a phone call.

Clarke had been going stir-crazy with cabin fever, not being able to return to work until Lexa was sure that she was fit to be moving about.

The call had interrupted Clarke watching some action movie on TV one evening.

When Lexa’s name filled the phone screen and it vibrated away in her hands, she immediately dropped everything, picking up in the second ring.

“Lexa?”

Clarke wasn’t ready for Lexa’s husky, low and concentrated voice. It made her weak all over again.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice, as per usual was tinged with concern. “Are you well?”

“I’d be better if you weren’t avoiding me.” Clarke winced. That was a bit harsh.

Lexa’s sharp inhale could be heard on Clarke’s end. “My apologies. I’ve been…occupied with work.”

Clarke knew that was half true, half bullshit. Lexa was either very disenchanted with Clarke after their intimate moments, or scared to let herself go.

Either way, Clarke knew she had to find the truth.

“I…I know.” Clarke shrugged it off with a sigh. “So, you gonna show up at my door spontaneously right now and complain about the locks?” Clarke glanced back at the door, frowning when it showed no signs of Lexa.

Lexa would’ve chuckled, if this were a week prior.

But it wasn’t.

“No, Clarke, I’m still at the office.” Lexa replied monotonously.

Clarke frowned, her heart aching for Lexa. She wanted to save her from herself.

“Oh.” Clarke sighed. “What can I do for you?”

“You…could come in tomorrow.” Lexa sighed. “I have…something for you. To give to Bellamy.”

Clarke’s heart soared. “You mean…the peace agreement? You actually did it? You wrote one up?” Clarke was overjoyed.

Lexa sighed over the line. “Yes, Clarke.”

“And…you’ll be there tomorrow?” Clarke’s hopefulness was obvious, she didn’t bother to hide it.

“Yes, Clarke.” Lexa assured her gently. “Of course.”

“Great. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Clarke grinned, and then jumped when three loud gunshots rang out from the movie she’d forgotten to mute.

“Clarke!” Lexa’s voice was pure terror on the other end of the line. “Talk to me, Clarke.” She breathed in anticipation.

Clarke couldn’t help the smile that graced her lips. She knew, given the events of the past week, that Lexa had a right to be worried. She just couldn’t help the warm, fluttery feeling she felt when Lexa was so worried, so protective.

It meant she _cared_.

She _still_ cared.

“Hey, it’s just the TV, Lexa.” Clarke murmured.

Lexa heaved a sigh of relief, and Clarke could just imagine her nervously balling up her hands into fists. “…thank god.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

“ _Reshop, Heda_.” Clarke murmured again, thinking of the first time she’d ever said that to Lexa, with the rain falling silently around them, in their own protected little bubble.

She missed Lexa Woods, and she was going to see her.

She was going to tell her.  

 

* * *

 

It seemed as if an air of cold, frustrating, unmoving silence had taken over the Grounder Corp. building in the wake of recent events.

The usual chatter that filled the main lobby was still there, but it was hushed, carried in the forms of whispers and hisses that couldn’t have been good news.

Interns bustled about, Lexa’s guard was intensified by tens, and everyone looked up at Clarke when she pushed her way through the front doors with silent solemnness, experiencing severe rubatosis.

She’d clipped her blonde hair behind her, a few strands loosely falling to the front of her face. She’d wished she had gone with leaving her hair down completely, so she’d have a curtain to shield herself from the Grounder’s heavy stares.

 They looked at her, each conveying a different message with their thick gazes, riddled with animosity and admiration, love and hate, appreciation and despair.

Clarke had never felt more exposed in her life.

She shrugged a little in her doctor’s coat, trying and failing to ignore the whispers that were so clearly about her.

“Dr. Griffin’s back.” The first audible murmur.

“I heard she took a bullet for Heda.”

“I heard they’re screwing.”

“Maybe that’s why Lincoln got fucked over. Her head wasn’t in the game.”

Clarke winced at that one, her heart aching. Maybe that was the case. Lexa was with her when she got the initial call of danger.

“You think Lexa’s soft now?”

“No, she’d kill Griffin before she let us die.”

“Yeah? Too bad Lincoln didn’t get the memo.”

Clarke froze in place when the elevator doors dinged before her, steel sliding doors separating to reveal Lincoln himself.

Clarke’s eyes widened uncontrollably when she took him in. He was there, in all his glory, head high, smile in place.

On a wheelchair.

His leg was still neatly bandaged under his shorts, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel sick and sorry all over again.

The whispers ceased and the buzzing of work continued.

“Hey, Clarke.” Lincoln offered up a smile. “Welcome back.”

“Hey.” Clarke’s murmur was quiet, afraid. “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon yourself.”

Lincoln shrugged. “The wheelchair is…temporary. I’m thinking of crutches, when I have the strength.”

Clarke nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You here to escort me up?”

Lincoln nodded. “Just like the first time we met.”

Clarke offered him a sad smile, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the top floor.

“Clarke.” Lincoln reached out, his arm grabbing hers.

Clarke tried to fight the watering in her eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” Lincoln’s voice was steady.

Clarke bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’m the reason why Bellamy was there. I don’t even know why. But…I know he probably didn’t come just to…finish you off.” She winced at how brutal the words sounded.

Lincoln frowned. “Clarke. Octavia. I haven’t seen her since that day. Tell me she’s alright.”

Clarke frowned as well, biting her lip once more. “I…I don’t know, Lincoln.” She confessed in a melancholy tone. “I haven’t heard anything from her. She didn’t even come by my apartment to see me like everyone else did.”

Lincoln nodded, eyes trained forward as he clenched his fists in anger.

“She probably blames herself.” Clarke sighed. “She…she was visiting you, when it happened. She…got careless, forgot about Bellamy…Lincoln, she led him right to you, unarmed and helpless.”

Lincoln let out a low growl. “This isn’t her fault! None of this is!”

Clarke nodded mutely. She knew she had nothing to offer him, nothing to console him with. She decided to change the subject.

“How is Lexa?” She murmured.

Lincoln glanced up at Clarke with a worried, tense brown gaze. “Awful.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Her people…some of them are losing faith, Clarke.” Lincoln sighed. “She…she was supposed to strike back. To make a move, to do something, anything. But she opted for your…peace. Which makes her look weak. Pathetic.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Clarke huffed.

Lincoln shook his head. “Of course not. But my beliefs don’t…don’t carry a lot of weight here, anymore.” He murmured, glancing at his leg disdainfully.

Clarke’s anger boiled within her. How wrong. How juvenile. How disgusting. “But…how is she handling everything?”

Lincoln frowned. “She gets here before everyone. Leaves after everyone. She’s upset about something else, Clarke. I think it’s you. I don’t know. She and Anya have taken to beating the shit out of each other every night in the gym. It’s unhealthy, but they’re both…they’re fucked up, Clarke.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “I’m going to fix this.” She promised. “This peace…it’s going to last, Lincoln. I’ll negotiate both sides. I’ll talk to Bellamy. We’ll bring them peace.”

Lincoln looked doubtful, but he nodded, allowing for Clarke to go first before the elevator doors rolled open, following her out.

Anya was leaning against the secretary’s desk, reading a paper before turning around in surprise

Clarke saw her breath hitch when she gazed at Lincoln, then her eyes settled on Clarke, cold and hardened.

Clarke’s eyes took in the small bruises along her face, and wondered what the hell she and Lexa were up to.

“Anya.” Lincoln dipped his head a bit. “Look what I found in the lobby.”

Anya stepped forward, straightening out her suit jacket as she nodded to Clarke. “Welcome back, Dr. Griffin.”

Clarke sighed, accepting her greeting with a small nod. “I’m…glad to be here.”

Anya nodded gently. “You’d be the only one, then.”

Lincoln rolled himself off to the side, beckoning for Anya when she was finished with Clarke.

Clarke turned towards Lexa’s office. “I better get inside.” She murmured.

Anya nodded, hand catching Clarke’s wrist at the last second. “Clarke.” Her voice was firm with intent, yet, not as abrasive as she was used to. She gazed into Clarke’s blue stare, clearing her throat. “Thank you.”

Clarke glanced up in surprise.

She’d expected Anya to hate her, to thrash her around, to hurt her for Lincoln’s state.

“You…saved Lexa.” Anya clarified.

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat. “I…you would have done the same, I’m sure.”

Anya nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. “Clarke.”

“Hmm?” Clarke responded gently, coaxing it out of her.

“It’s not weakness.” Anya murmured as she glanced over at Lincoln, shaking her head. “It’s not.”

* * *

 

Clarke’s mind was reeling as she rapped gently on Lexa’s heavy office door before pushing it aside, slipping into the familiar room.

Lexa, who’d been apparently gazing out the window, whipped around, looking shaken from her thoughts.

Clarke’s heart stopped, like it always did.

It longed for Lexa, for the swell of her lips and her amused little smiles and thick, low voice.

It longed for the safety of her touch, and the intensity of her verdant gaze as it swept over Clarke’s body, cautiously, carefully, looking for holes in Clarke’s armor to patch up with her sweet whispers.

Lexa’s eyes did just that- they raked Clarke’s body, checking her wounded abdomen before all else, and then settled on her cerulean gaze. “Clarke.” She whispered, unable to get anything else out.

Clarke froze, her eyes doing just the same, finding Lexa’s in a gaze of caged passion.

She opted for the professional route, for Lexa’s sake as well as her own. She dipped her head, noting Lexa’s surprised response. “I’m here.” Clarke murmured gently.

Lexa stepped forward, motioning for Clarke to sit across from her, just like Clarke had on their first formal interview.

It was all coming back to Clarke so vividly, she had to wonder if they’d gone full-circle.

She hoped not, as the next step in the cycle was hate, and she was sure she wasn’t capable of hating Lexa Woods.

Lexa’s hair was parted elegantly, drifting over the side of her shoulder, and Clarke could almost smell the vanilla scent she knew it had.

The window’s light washed out the background of the office walls, and Clarke was staring at an illuminated Lexa, as if she were a heavenly body, sent down just for Clarke.

Except she wasn’t Clarke’s.

Lexa’s eyes bore a solemn message, and Clarke knew she had to do her part to alleviate the stress she’d caused Lexa.

“How are you feeling?” Lexa murmured, ever cordial.

“I’m fine.” Clarke answered softly. “How about you? I hear things have been stressful.”

Lexa nodded slowly. “I do my job all the same.”

Clarke glanced up into her eyes. “I hear…you’ve decided to propose peace.”

Lexa glanced at Clarke, her gaze wrought with emotions Clarke couldn’t begin to describe. “After what happened to you, Clarke…” she began shakily. “I will not risk anyone again. If…peace…is your solution, then…so be it. I know better than to argue with you about your own people.”

‘They’re not my people’ Clarke’s heart cried out in vain. ‘You are’.

She simply nodded, pressing on. “Your people…” Clarke began gently. “They don’t seem…thrilled with this idea.”

Lexa’s gaze hardened. “They know who’s in command.” She retorted dryly. Then her gaze softened as she added, “There is an old saying in my family.”

Clarke’s eyes lit up at the chance to learn more about Lexa. Anything at all.

“Blood must have blood.” Lexa recited calmly, lacing her hands together.

Clarke winced at the adage. That was brutal, certainly up the “commander’s” alley.

Lexa nodded, as if replying to Clarke’s unspoken sentiment. “It is not a statement we make lightly.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed. “So…by making this peace…you’re breaking family tradition?”

Her entire soul was heaving, in entire disbelief that Lexa would do something like that for her.

“I am.” Lexa bit her lip. “But…there are new traditions to be forged, Clarke.”

Clarke gazed at her proudly, lower lip threatening to tremble at the sheer beauty and mercy of the woman before her.

She was overcome with a wave of dizziness, of euphoria, despite the intensity of it all. She tried to push it all down, to ignore her feelings, in order to keep her sentiments from muddling her rationale.

Lexa rose, and Clarke followed suit. Lexa brandished a letter from the drawer of her desk, sealed professionally, in a thick envelope.

“I…I need you to give this to Bellamy.” Lexa seemed terrified of the idea of sending Clarke there. “This is a proposal of peace. Written, for what it’s worth. If he honors it…we might begin a new era, Clarke. I can’t change the past. I can’t change Lincoln’s fate, or Costia’s choices, but…I can protect you, and everyone else. I…I don’t want to send you, but you’re the only one who has a chance to convince him…”

Clarke nodded slowly, hands reaching up to grasp the letter. She shakily took it, stowing it in the front of her coat pocket, turning for the door. “I’ll deliver it immediately.”

Lexa nodded. “I await your return.”

Clarke was reaching for the door handle when she felt a tug at her wrist. Melting inside, she turned around into Lexa’s embrace, hugging her tightly despite her wounds. Clarke breathed in the scent of her hair, her perfume, taking in the warmth Lexa offered.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the rest of the world to die away, so long as she was with Lexa like this.

“I missed you.” Clarke breathed by her ear, skin chilling as Lexa ran a hand along the small of her back, running soothing lines up and down.

“I…I missed you too.” Lexa’s voice was heavy, laden with remorse and concern. “Please, be careful, Clarke.” She whispered, unable to finish her sentiment. “I…I cannot lose any more of my people.” She said that last part strangely.

Clarke nodded slowly, body aching as she detached herself from Lexa, greeted by a worried green gaze. “We bring them peace.”

Lexa nodded, eyes locking with Clarke’s as her fingers ghosted over Clarke’s arms, returning to her side. “You bring them peace.”

* * *

 

Clarke had never been more scared to go home in her life. Home meaning to Bellamy and Octavia’s offices, not the apartment she’d been emptily residing in.

If Clarke were honest with herself, she’d admit that Grounder Corp. felt more like home than anywhere else did.

Except, maybe, Lexa’s arms.

Clarke shook the thoughts, trying to focus on the task at hand.

It all came down to her.

If she could convince Bellamy and Octavia that war with the Grounders was not worth pursuing, that the losses outweighed the satisfaction of a personal vendetta…then she could finally relax and move along with life.

She’d occupied herself lately with wondering what her life would be if everything was settled peaceably.

Would she go back to the hospital?

Would Lexa stay?

Would she tell Lexa about the aching she caused in Clarke’s soul? Would Lexa push her away?

She couldn’t imagine life without Lexa, and it horrified her, because Clarke adored being independent.

Ever since Abby was back, Clarke made a point of it to show how successful she was on her own. Barring the bullet hole in her abdomen, of course.

The Blake tower was alight with excitement and buzzing with the satisfaction of Bellamy’s strike. Even though it had backfired spectacularly, those who were in on the underground side of the Blake business knew that Bellamy was ready to put Lexa Woods away for good.

Clarke Griffin was just about the only person who hadn’t been made aware of that fact.

So when everyone in the lobby smiled at Clarke, and Dax opened the doors for her with a shark-like grin, Clarke mirrored their emotions, trying desperately to blend in with people she once called family.

Her blood ran black like the Grounders, now, it seemed. Figuratively, anyway.

“Hey, Clarke.” Dax spoke enthusiastically, a far cry from the beaten pulp he was months ago. “Bell and O are waiting for you in conference room B.”

“Bell and O?” Clarke echoed. “What about Ray? And Murphy?”

Dax shook his head. “I meant what I said, they’re on errands.”

Clarke furrowed her brow.

“Anyway, good to see you’re back on your feet.” Dax murmured as the door was shutting behind him.

“Yeah, uh…thanks.” Clarke nodded gratefully as she stepped into the main hallway, eyeing the conference room door with a hint of exhaustion.

The letter felt incredibly heavy, like an anvil in her pocket.

Clarke knew the weight of the situation, the burden on her shoulders.

This was for Lexa.

For Lincoln.

For Anya.

For Raven.

For Murphy.

For Monty.

For everyone involved in the bloody street wars.

It was a new dawn, and a new day. Clarke had to make Octavia and Bellamy see that.

She’d not been in the same room with Bellamy, or Octavia, since the incident. She felt her nerves get the best of her, drying out her throat as she pushed the heavy door open, blinds on the windows dimming out the light.

Her eyes adjusted as she saw Bellamy sitting at the head of the table, relief clouding his gaze.

Octavia looked beyond dead. Her gaze was emotionless, devoid of all feeling. She chanced a wry smile when Clarke walked in.

“Hey, guys…” Clarke murmured, watching Bellamy rise. “I…I missed you.”

The words didn’t carry half as much weight as they did with Lexa.

 Clarke couldn’t stop imagining her green eyes, piercing and penetrating Clarke’s very soul with every flick and gaze and batting of her long eyelashes.

She had to focus.

“Clarke.” Bellamy’s voice sounded almost choked up.

Clarke furrowed a brow, was he that concerned about her?

Octavia rose, nodding respectfully to Clarke. “I’ll take my leave. You two have important things to talk about, I’m sure.”

Clarke nearly gaped. Octavia never wanted out, and she was certainly expecting some sort of apology from the brunette, seeing as she’d taken a bullet from their plan.

What the hell was going on?

Bellamy’s lips were pressed into a grim line. “O, don’t you have something to say?”

Octavia glanced up and down at Clarke. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Clarke. Bullet wounds hurt.” Her voice was icy, and Clarke only nodded in response.

“You’re leaving?” Clarke asked in confusion. “I have…important news that both of you should hear.”

Octavia shrugged. “I don’t make decisions around here, Griffin.”

Clarke looked dumbfounded. “Yes…you do? Your name is on the building.”

Octavia rolled her eyes, grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair. “Pretty soon that won’t be my name, either.” She made her way past Clarke without so much as a glance as she shut the door behind her, likely disappearing to her own office.

Clarke looked like someone struck her across the face. “What…what’s going on?”

Bellamy made his way over, shaking his head. “O and I…had a disagreement over making calls at the hospital. Suffice it to say that she’s not over it. But…she will be, soon. I made that call because I had to.”

Clarke’s response was cut off by Bellamy pulling her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her.

Something felt odd, different. Clarke couldn’t fathom what it was.

“I…I almost thought I lost you.” Bellamy’s voice nearly cracked, and Clarke could almost hear him…crying? This conversation felt oddly familiar, and yet, she had no idea where she’d heard it before.

“You…you didn’t. I’m here, Bell.” Clarke offered, trying not to sound as confused as she was.

“I know…” Bellamy nodded over her shoulder. “I know. That’s what matters. I have you back.”

“Back?” Clarke’s voice was tense. “I never left…”

Bellamy leaned back, sighing. “Why don’t you sit? You look exhausted, and with that wound…” he ran the tips of his fingers over Clarke’s abdomen, causing shivers to run over Clarke’s body.

“I uh…sure.” Clarke swallowed, sitting down with great unease.

“I guess you…want to talk about what happened at the hospital.” Bellamy queried, leaning against the wall, arms folded, jaw clenched.

Clarke sighed. “It’s…done, right? Time to move on.”

Bellamy shook his head. “No, Clarke. You need to understand. I’m not Lexa. I’m not a monster. I didn’t…get pleasure, out of doing that to that Grounder. Okay?”

Clarke didn’t know how to respond. Lexa wasn’t a monster. That was her first thought. Her second was of a viable response. “Bellamy…I’m not going to pretend to understand why you did what you did…” She sighed.

“It was a message.” Bellamy answered stiffly. “For our people.”

Clarke looked uncomfortable, eyes flicking to the bustling streets outside the conference room window. “Message received, Bellamy.” She mumbled. “They hate us more than ever.”

“And this bothers you?” Bellamy pressed angrily.

“Yeah, it does.” Clarke spoke defiantly, usually the only one to ever stand up to Bellamy, and he usually listened. “That puts a target on all our backs.”

“So?” Bellamy countered incredulously. “We can take them.”

“But why?” Clarke retorted. “What’s the point? More bloodshed, and for what? Territory? Drug sales? What is it? You’re both well off! You can co-exist without this underground bullshit!”

Bellamy looked taken aback. “My parents, Clarke!” There were almost tears in his eyes. “Her family murdered them! You think I can just…just…walk away from that?”

Clarke set her jaw in anger. “How many people have to die before you’re satisfied, Bellamy?”

Bellamy glanced down, the hurt reflecting in his eyes.

Clarke brandished the letter and threw it on the table.

“What’s that?” Bellamy asked without moving.

“A peace offering.” Clarke sighed. “From Lexa.”

Bellamy’s eyes flared at the mention of her name. “Are you kidding me?” He snorted.

“We…think it’s the best course of action.” Clarke clarified.

“We?” Bellamy growled.

“Lexa and I.” Clarke clarified.

“Have you forgotten your own family, Clarke?” Bellamy sighed, kneeling in front of her. “Have you forgotten me?”

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat. “I…I know I’ve been gone for a while, Bell…” She began slowly, taking his hands in hers. “But…we can fix this, together! I know we can!”

“Okay, Clarke.” Bellamy huffed out, his brown eyes meeting hers in a look of pure compassion.

Clarke looked up at him, tears pricking her eyes. She couldn’t fight the smile on her features. “Really?” She blinked them away.

“Yeah.” Bellamy nodded, hands reaching down. “And Clarke?”

“Yeah?” Clarke asked, heart settling down to it’s normal rate.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke as she felt something cold, metallic and shiny, connect with the flesh of her wrist. She felt a squeeze and then a click, and glanced down to see that Bellamy had cuffed her to the table’s leg, eyes boring into hers.

“Bellamy?” Clarke breathed, heart going frantic again. “Bellamy what the hell are you doing?”

Bellamy’s jaw set. “Lexa’s done a number on you, Clarke.” He sighed, still kneeling at her level.

“What?” Clarke scoffed, but the bravado was gone. “What are you talking about?”

Bellamy shook his head, reaching invasively into her pocket for her cell phone, leaving it on the far end of the table, way out of Clarke’s reach. “It’s not love, Clarke. She doesn’t love you. Not like I do.”

His face was inches away from hers, his forehead pressed against hers, his mop of brown hair meeting her golden locks.

Their lips barely grazed each other’s as he spoke.

It wasn’t a kiss.

Clarke’s eyes widened and she felt suddenly nauseated, rocking forward in her chair, cuffed hands reaching to graze his shirt. “Wha…what?”

Bellamy nodded, thumbs wiping away her tears. “It’s okay Clarke, we have you now. We’re not gonna let you get hurt this time.”

Clarke shook her head, despair welling within her. “The letter, Bellamy!” She heaved. “You have to read it, accept it! The people will want this!”

Bellamy shook his head, taking the letter from the table, reaching into his jacket pocket as opened the conference room window, the light momentarily blinding Clarke.

“Bellamy!” Clarke nearly shrieked.

He pulled out a lighter, reaching out the open window as he set about burning the letter.

Clarke felt a void where her heart should’ve been. This couldn’t have been happening.

There was no way Bellamy was that derailed. That detached from reality.

“Clarke.” Bellamy soothed, watching the charred bits wave away like dust in the wind. “We’re gonna finish this, I promise, okay?”

Clarke was shaking her head in disbelief. “You’ve lost it.” She couldn’t believe him. She loved him. She suspected that some part of her would always love him, the way she idolized him growing up, the way she crushed on him in her adolescence. But…this? “You’ve lost your mind.”

Bellamy frowned, shutting the window. “No, Clarke, you don’t mean that. You’re in shock because I know about you double-crossing me with Lexa. And I’m doing you a favor. I’m sparing you, and I’m helping you change back.”

“I didn’t change, Bellamy!” Clarke hissed. “You did!”

Bellamy looked unflinching. “Don’t bother, Clarke. I promise we can talk this out later. I have a meeting with Nia, and then we’ll see about getting you somewhere else.”

Clarke seethed in her chair, desperately trying to free herself, to no avail.

Bellamy looked sorry. “Clarke.” He sighed as he stepped out the slit of an open door. “Relax. You’re safe now.”

Clarke wasted no time on the futile task of screaming for help on the highest, emptiest floor of the building.

* * *

 

“Lexa.” Anya came into her office nearly half an hour after Clarke’s departure, looking particularly angry.

“Anya.” Lexa was pacing around her office, twirling the ceramic dagger Clarke had made for her so long ago, heart and mind with Clarke Griffin instead of her work.

“I cannot believe…” Anya seethed, taking in a deep breath. “Peace? Really? A peace offering?”

Lexa froze, glancing up at Anya solemnly. “Yes.”

“After what they did to Lincoln?” Anya hissed.

“Yes.”

Incredulity.

“After all we’ve been through?”

Rage.

“Yes.”

Hatred.

“After using your high school sweetheart against you?”

“Yes, Anya.”

“After they almost got Clarke killed?” Anya snapped.

Lexa’s jaw tightened.

“That’s why, isn’t it?” Anya murmured, in her tiny revelation. “It’s all for her.”

Lexa shook her head. “It’s for our people, Anya.”

“They don’t want peace.” Anya countered.

“They’re not in charge.” Lexa sighed. “They don’t know what’s best for themselves, especially without knowing all the details.”

“Lexa…” Anya sighed, sitting in the guest’s chair across from her desk. “Are you sure about this? About the benefits? Or is this something you did out of blindness, out of affection?”

Lexa clenched the ceramic knife tightly. “Anya, I might have just sent Clarke to her own grave. Right into Bellamy’s clutches. If you say I do not care about these people, I think you might be the blind one.”

Anya bit her lip. She had to approach this subject with great care. “I know.”

“Then why are you here?” Lexa asked, with perhaps a bit more bite than she’d intended.

“Because I worry about your decision.” Anya admitted. “What if they accept, and then strike when we’re not prepared? What then?”

Lexa’s eyes flashed with anger. “I have prepared for that possibility, Anya. But we have to take that risk. Too many die because of these idiotic games we play.”

“And you’re content to just let Bellamy walk free?” Anya pressed.

Lexa’s teeth were gritted as she uttered. “No.”

“Then why let him?” Anya demanded, fire in her soul.

“Clarke.” It was a single word, that Lexa murmured, and her features softened. “I would, for Clarke.”

“Blood must have blood.” Anya growled lowly. “Have you forgotten that?”

Lexa shook her head. “Blood must…not have blood.”

Anya’s eyes widened. “You’re a different person, Lexa.”

Lexa bit her lip. “I’m better for it.”

Anya sighed, eyes tracing Lexa’s features with concern. “You’re in love.”

Lexa glanced at her with a steely gaze. “I endanger Clarke.”

“Clarke endangers you.” Anya’s reply was instant. “You shouldn’t stop living because of it.”

Lexa looked thoughtful. “I…I can protect her, by staying away.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“But Costia-” Lexa began.

“Costia was a fucking pawn, Lexa. Don’t even compare them. Clarke is real.”

Clarke _was_ real.

Lexa fell into a dreamy silence after that, pondering how she was going to deal with all the hurdles and the obstacles in her path.

“How’s Lincoln?” Lexa sighed.

Anya glanced away, her blood boiling as she imagined Octavia, leaving him to die. “He acts like he’s fine.”

“He’s not?”

“No.”

“What troubles him, then?” Lexa asked expectantly.

Anya shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had to lie, knowing that it was Octavia’s absence that was wrecking Lincoln’s world. “I don’t know.”

Lexa seemed to realize that this wasn’t the whole truth. She leaned back in her seat.

“We’ll get through this, Anya, despite what you think. Do you still have faith in me?”

“Always, Lexa.” Anya murmured, running a hand through her hair.

“Then we’re alright.”

Lexa hoped she’d soon be able to say the same for Clarke.

* * *

 

Clarke’s wrist was reddened and bruised as she struggled against the single cuff.

The metal, cold and unloving as Bellamy’s words for Lexa, rubbed against her skin, reminding her that she was bound to the table, to the building, to _him_.

Clarke didn’t know why it made her feel so uneasy.

Shouldn’t she have loved Bellamy?

That was the easy solution, wasn’t it? To just turn her back on Lexa, to give into Bellamy’s love, to melt into his strong arms and kiss him like the hero he thought he was.

But Clarke wasn’t in love with Bellamy.

She was so, utterly, desperately in love with Lexa Woods that it hurt her just to think about it.

Clarke closed her eyes, imagining Lexa busting through the door, like the commander they claimed she was, coming to free Clarke.

Of course, Clarke was no goddamned damsel in distress.

Lexa had said she was pawn, then a knight. She wanted to be a queen.

Clarke waited and waited, and thought of several illnesses she might have been able to fake. A stroke? Unlikely. A heart attack? Bellamy would see right through it.

She was doctor, wasn’t she? Couldn’t she force her thumb to break at an angle that would free her?

God, no, that was idiotic.

It wasn’t like she was in immediate danger. Hell, it wasn’t even her own safety she feared for.

It was Lexa’s. She needed to get back to Lexa, to prove her loyalty, to be with her.

Lexa, Lexa, Lexa.

Everything was Lexa, and Clarke was chained to her old life, unable to outrun it.

And then, her musings were interrupted as the conference room door was pushed open, revealing Octavia, who’d slipped in wordlessly.

She froze when she saw Clarke reaching for her thumb, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of pain.

“Clarke!” She hissed, bending over with a key in hand. “What the hell are you doing?”

Clarke’s cerulean eyes opened to meet Octavia’s baby blues, which were rampant with shock. “I uh…was thinking of breaking my thumb…”

Octavia’s jaw dropped a s she knelt beside Clarke, brandishing a key from her pocket. “That’s badass, Griffin. Lexa trained you well.” She murmured as she set to work on the cuffs.

Clarke froze in shock. “You…you’re helping me?” She wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

“Sorry about earlier.” Octavia huffed. “I had a part to play.”

Clarke glanced at her in shock. “You…why?” She could only utter short phrases of that nature, it seemed.

“Because you protected Lincoln and I when you could have told Raven, Bell…practically anyone. Now come on, let’s get you to Lexa.”

“What?” Clarke rose, wrist cramping as she rubbed it. “Why?”

“Because you’re not safe here anymore.” Octavia murmured, eyes full of conviction.

“But Bellamy-”

“Bellamy isn’t himself.” Octavia’s voice was icy. “Clarke, he’s gone. The Bellamy we knew, our brother…he’s gone, okay?”

“So…so we just leave him?” Clarke looked distraught.

“Yes, for now.” Octavia growled, tired of Clarke’s refusal to budge. “C’mon, let’s move.”

Clarke hurried with Octavia towards the back stairwell, hoping no one had seen them leave.

“You…you can’t show yourself at Lexa’s. They’ll kill you.” Clarke huffed as they jogged down the flights of stairs.

“You worry about yourself, Clarke.” Octavia’s voice was calm. “I’ll worry about me. You can run, right? Just don’t bust a gut, okay?”

Clarke wanted to roll her eyes at Octavia’s stubborn nature. “Lincoln is there.” She muttered after they cleared two stories worth of stairs.

“How…how is he?” Octavia huffed out, refusing to make eye contact with Clarke as they continued down the stair well, hands on the railings as their steps reverberated throughout the empty walls.

“He’s…alright. He misses you.” Clarke murmured. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Fuck, I know.” Octavia let out a sigh. “Wasn’t safe. Bell’s been watching me like a hawk since I tried to stop him in Lincoln’s room.”

Clarke fell silent.

Octavia led the way and Clarke was thankful she’d worked out enough to keep up as they reached the last few steps, her heart hammering in her chest as she pushed the door to the parking garage open, knowing Octavia’s spot by heart.

Instead, she ran smack into Raven, who’d been opening the door to enter the building herself.

Clarke nearly stumbled, and Raven hardly flinched at all. “What the fuck?” Raven growled, and then her expression softened when she saw it was Clarke.

“Raven?” Clarke’s eyes widened.

“Fuck.” Octavia muttered inaudibly, leaning against the wall.

“Where are you guys going?” Raven asked, eyeing Octavia with suspicion. “Are you even supposed to be out of bed, Clarke?”

“Yup!” Clarke nodded, offering a smile. “O and I were just…uh…getting an early lunch.”

Raven’s eyes flashed with what appeared to be pain, and Clarke wanted to smack herself.

Maybe it was time to tell Raven the truth about Finn? Bellamy couldn’t be trusted anymore, and Raven needed to know.

“Raven…” Clarke sighed, breathing far from normal. “I…I need to…”

“Go. We need to go.” Octavia sighed, pushing Clarke forward protectively. “See you around, Reyes.”

Raven’s gaze was cold as it followed them out. “Going to see your Grounder boyfriend? Girlfriend, for you, Griffin.”

That wasn’t a threat anymore, but an insult.

“She knows?” Clarke gasped, watching as Octavia’s eyes narrowed, a growl coming from her throat.

“Yeah, I guess I’m not as much as an idiot as you think.” Raven snapped. “Fuck you two. For betraying us, for lying to them…you’re no better than the scum you’re fucking.”

Octavia’s blood boiled as her hand shot forward but Clarke caught it, tugging her back gently. “Come on, O. She doesn’t understand. Let’s go.” Clarke began to pull her away.

“What don’t I understand, huh?” Raven challenged angrily, shouting into the parking complex. “That you lied! That you couldn’t trust me?”

“Ignore her.” Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat as she got into Octavia’s car, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Come on, Clarke.” Octavia sighed, biting her lip.

Clarke could tell she was aching, hurting at the sight of her relationship with Raven torn to shreds and reduced to contempt.

It was a sad day when one had to see their family fall apart.

“Let’s go home, Clarke.” Octavia murmured, eyes set on the road before her as her wheels tore at the pavement in a furious heat.

* * *

 

“Lexa, they’re here.” Anya’s voice was solemn as she leaned into Lexa’s office, having just received word from one of Lexa’s people on watch outside.

“They? They who?” Lexa asked, concern tearing at her voice.

“Clarke, and…Octavia Blake.” Anya repeated what she’d heard. She sounded furious. “You can’t possibly let them in…”

“Anya, it’s Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was desperate. “I’ll meet them downstairs.”

“Let’s go.” Anya nodded, moving forward.

Lexa shook her head, her hand on Anya’s arm. “No, Anya.” Her voice was heavy with the authority it wielded. “You stay here.”

Anya’s eyes widened as her jaw clenched. “What?” She demanded.

“You heard me.” Lexa repeated lowly, not quite threateningly, but the intent was clear. “You’re not fit to see Octavia Blake.”

“Not fit?” Anya scoffed. “Lexa, I-”

“Anya, you’re affected by your anger. I can’t ruin whatever chance we have at a truce.” Lexa told her unwaveringly. “You’ll wait here for us, and I’ll return quickly.”

Anya inhaled a sharp breath, nodding.

Lexa made her way to the elevator, eyeing Lincoln as he wheeled in beside her wordlessly.

“You’ll be alright, Lincoln? I told Anya to stay up.” Lexa asked carefully, eyes scrutinizing him.

Lincoln nodded. “You have my word, _Heda_.”

He was going to see Octavia Blake again, come hell or high water.

* * *

 

Lexa had ordered the lobby be cleared out, save for a few of her people to keep a watchful eye on things.

She didn’t want news spreading like it had about the possibility of her and Clarke sleeping together, or Lincoln’s paralysis.

She wanted everything contained.

Which led to Clarke being majorly confused when she walked into the main entrance of the building, arm in arm with Octavia Blake, to show that she was with her, and not a threat.

Almost immediately upon entering, Gustus stepped forward, and Clarke glanced up at him in surprise. “Gustus? Where is everyone?” Clarke tried to peer behind his hulking figure without any luck.

“Heda cleared out the lobby for your arrival.” Gustus muttered, motioning to Octavia. “I need to search for weapons.”

Octavia huffed out a sigh, raising her arms as Gustus searched her, brandishing a knife, and gun from Octavia’s belt, with a heavy scowl in place.

“I didn’t have time to remove them.” Octavia spoke defensively, her eyes shining with courage.

“She saved me, Gustus.” Clarke spoke gently, and Gustus gave her a single nod.

“Heda.” Gustus turned, and Clarke’s eyes found Lexa’s emerald gaze, the gap between the separating as she stepped forward, Lincoln lingering behind.

Octavia gasped silently when she saw Lincoln, and Clarke knew she was fighting off tears. She had to be strong, in front of Lexa.

Clarke found Lexa’s gaze and was overwhelmed by the concern that was raging in them.

“Lexa.” Octavia spoke first, her voice surprisingly steady.

“Octavia.” Lexa acknowledged her, eyeing her up and down. “You take great risks coming here.”

“I…come here with Clarke.” Octavia glanced at Clarke, who nodded supportively. “To…bring her back to you. She’s not safe with us anymore, and I can’t protect her.”

Lexa’s people whispered amongst themselves as they watched Lexa’s eyes flash with concern once more before righting herself and speaking once more.

“And the peace offering?” Her voice was curt, sharp and demanding.

Octavia opened her mouth, but it was Clarke who spoke out. “Void.” Clarke murmured with a shake of her head. “They…rejected it.”

Lexa’s lips were pressed into a firm line. “War, then.”

Her people began to speak louder as their volume rose, their gazes harsh on Octavia, who remained unflinching still.

Clarke felt defeat claw at her insides. She rubbed her wrist absently, and Lexa’s gaze flicked to it.

Clarke knew she was going to hear about that later.

“I did this as a gesture of good faith.” Octavia murmured. “Not all of us agree with Bellamy’s…decisions.”

Lexa looked furious. “You mean cowardice? Like crippling an unarmed, unconscious man?”

Octavia visibly flinched, and Lincoln spoke up for the first time. “Heda.”

Lexa whipped around and visibly relaxed at his gaze, as if telling her to let it be.

“I…I’ll take my leave now.” Octavia sighed, knowing that there was no way in hell she was going to see Lincoln like this.

Lexa nodded once.

Before Octavia fully turned, however, she murmured a silent, almost inaudible, “Thank you, Octavia.”

Octavia gave a curt nod, turning and pulling Clarke into a hug.

“Be safe, O.” Clarke murmured.

“You too.” Octavia’s words were short, clipped.

Lexa turned towards the elevator, Clarke in tow, likely to discuss the next logical step, since Bellamy had rejected their only chance at peace.

Clarke never heard Octavia’s low whisper of “Fuck it” as her head was filled with several scenarios.

As they were getting in, still under the public eye, Lexa and Clarke heard several gasps from the lobby.

Lexa whipped around as the doors were shutting, just in time to see Octavia kneel before Lincoln, kissing him in the middle of her lobby.

Gustus, meanwhile, was wrangling Raven Reyes, who’d been overwhelmed by guards at the main entrance, trying to get in.

Lexa’s eyes widened and Clarke looked stunned as the door closed before they could utter a word or reach a hand out to stop them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, thanks for reading. Wanted to write more but the chapters are so long as is. Next time will be a pissed off Lexa dealing with Linctavia, Raven, and of course gushing over Clarke- as well a major plot development. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and I always appreciate the comments!
> 
> I'm at effortlessly-opulent on Tumblr (new story art there, yay!) Shoutout to @takemetolurch on tumblr for a fantastic job!
> 
> Need some fluff? The fake dating AU was updated too!: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439


	16. Ai Laik Heda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa receives an immense threat to her life as she deals with Clarke, Raven, and Octavia.

It all happened so very suddenly.

The elevator doors shut, but Lexa Woods was having none of it. She slammed the opening buttons so instantly that Clarke couldn’t even see her hand until it came back to her side, clenched in a fist.

“Lexa.” Clarke’s voice was timid, and she was reminded of their earlier relationship, the one based in fear, and loathing.

Clarke thought she saw a little bit of that Lexa in her current actions.

Lexa, on the other hand, had either ignored her, or simply drowned Clarke out altogether.

Or, so Clarke thought.

“Stay.” Lexa’s voice was cold, hard, demanding. Yet, her voice was protective and concerned at its core.

Of course, Clarke never really was good at taking orders, so she figured she wouldn’t start right then and there.

Clarke followed her as she strode into the expansive lobby, amidst the Grounders’ cries of anger, Lincoln and Octavia’s intimate moment, and Gustus’ men tackling Raven to the ground.

Lexa took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, willing her rage into her voice.

And then she projected.

“I WILL HAVE ORDER!” Lexa’s call of authority reverberated throughout the great halls of her immense building, and everything fell silent.

Lincoln froze, Octavia kneeled in front of his wheelchair, holding his hand tightly.

He murmured something to her, likely a reassurance.

Raven’s screams were immediately silenced. It seemed as if she were gagged by one of Lexa’s people, her screams attracting too much attention.

Anya, who had clearly defied Lexa’s order to stay upstairs, froze while trying to apparently beat sense into someone who’d said something against Lincoln, cold eyes locked on Octavia.

Clarke gaped at Lexa, at the throbbing vein in her throat when she yelled, at the way everyone in the building dropped everything to pay their respect to her commands.

She was, truly and absolutely, the Commander.

Lexa cleared her throat once, regally, glancing at her people, who all looked tense and ready to murder on her behalf.

They probably had, at some point or another.

Lexa spoke curtly. “Detain them. Both of them. Anya? Conference room. Fifteen minutes. Lincoln, you too.”

Lexa’s words were ice, cutting and caustic, and Clarke had to wonder what was going to happen to Raven and Octavia.

“Everyone else, disperse and shut up before I make you regret it.” Anya’s growl was warning enough, and the clumps of Grounders scattered like a wildfire, burning their way through the forests of Lexa’s building, back to their hideaway offices.

Lexa whipped around, eyes avoiding Clarke’s gaze. She kept her full lips pressed into a firm line, anger evident in the rage in her eyes as she stepped back into the elevator, Clarke freezing, unsure of whether to leave her alone or join her.

 If Raven and Octavia were detained, shouldn’t Clarke have been, too?

They were all that was left of her old family, and she couldn’t lose them.

Lexa’s eyes beckoned Clarke into the elevator and she held the door as Clarke wordlessly stepped inside, the doors rolling shut behind them.

* * *

 

Lexa said nothing, stiff and straight, eyes trained on the doors ahead.

Clarke knew she had to be the one to bring Lexa back from her sudden flash of authority.

“Hey…” Clarke murmured, eyes meeting Lexa’s.

They seemed so different, from across the elevator’s packed little space, and Clarke felt like they were on opposite sides again, for the first time in a long time.

Lexa gave her no response, her breathing slightly harsh.

“I’ll uh…I’ll go to the conference room.” Clarke mumbled unsurely.

Lexa turned, eyes locking with Clarke’s blue gaze. Demanding an explanation, it seemed.

“I’m…I’m one of them.” Clarke pressed softly. “If…if you take them, you have to take me. They’re…my family, Lexa, I can’t just…..Just detain me too, okay?”

Lexa’s gaze softened, and the icy façade she wore melted immediately. “Clarke, no.” She spoke softly, taking a few steps forward.

“Lexa, I…” Clarke looked sympathetic. “I understand. It would look bad if you detained them but let me walk around freely…And, I need to be with them…”

Lexa’s jaw set. “Clarke, I do not care what they think. You’re not one of them. Any of them.” Lexa’s voice was thick with emotion.

 _You’re mine_ , she wanted to tell Clarke in so many ways, and yet, the circumstances wouldn’t allow for it.

The elevator doors rolled open to a mostly empty top floor, and Lexa murmured a gentle, “Come.” She made her way for her office, Clarke wordlessly in tow.

The walk seemed longer than Clarke ever remembered it to be, perhaps due to the fact that she’d just seen every well-kept secret she’d ever had unravel in front of her.

Lights flickered in from the open windows of offices and the main window pane gave off sparkling reflections as Lexa pushed her office door open, holding it for Clarke.

“Thanks.” Clarke murmured, nearly stumbling in surprise when Lexa gave her a gentle nudge, so that she was sitting on the edge of her desk.

“Are you hurt?” Lexa’s question was wrought with worry, and Clarke remembered how concerned she’d been when Octavia told her that Clarke was no longer safe.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Clarke nodded, avoiding Lexa’s piercing, inquisitive gaze.

Lexa softly took Clarke’s wrist, mouth parting slightly when she saw how red it and irritated it was at Clarke’s attempts to break the cuffs and free herself.

Nothing ever got past Lexa.

“What did he do?” Lexa’s voice was soft, but not only with tenderness. With rage, contempt. Fuel for the ever growing fire of hatred for Bellamy that raged in her heart.

“Lexa…”

“What did he do, Clarke?” Lexa pressed, fingers delicately brushing over Clarke’s wrist.

She looked like she wanted to murder Bellamy Blake for so much as looking at Clarke.

And she did.

“He…he knows…” Clarke huffed, trying to keep herself together. “God, Lexa….he knows everything! I don’t know…How….exactly…” Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat.

Lexa’s eyes widened. “You…He what?” She demanded.

“He knows I…we….” Clarke motioned between her and Lexa. “He knows I’m loyal to you, Lexa. He’s lost it.”

Lexa slammed her hand on the desk beside Clarke. “Fuck!” She hissed, and Clarke jumped, startled by her raw power. “Clarke, I won’t let him hurt you. This was my fault, and now I won’t-”

Clarke shook her head, cutting her off. “Lexa, I’m not the one who should be worried. He...he said he loved me.” Clarke said the last part in an oddly strangled voice.

Lexa’s eyes widened as she glanced up, virid eyes searching Clarke’s for answers. “And…do you…?”

Clarke bit her lip, shaking her head. “No! I…Lexa, he’s snapped, completely derailed…”

Lexa looked disturbed by this information. “Did he…force himself on you in any way, Clarke?” Lexa asked quietly, her gaze clouded with the utmost concern.

Clarke sucked in a breath. “No, not…like that. He just…kissed me…”

Lexa’s jaw tightened as she took a deep breath, likely restraining herself from punching a hole through her wall.

“Lexa…” Clarke breathed, “I’m fine. I’m _here_.”

Lexa closed her eyes for a moment, releasing Clarke’s hand as she pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “And what of your people?”

Clarke looked desperate. “Give me a chance. Once they know everything that we do, they’ll…they won’t fight, I promise.”

Lexa blinked, biting her lip. “You knew about Lincoln and Octavia Blake.”

It wasn’t a question, and Clarke knew better than to lie.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I…I was protecting them.” Clarke defended.

Lexa squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to raise her voice. “Lincoln’s accident…”

“I know, it’s my fault.” Clarke growled to herself, angry with herself for not having seen this before.

It all could have been prevented if Lexa knew to watch out for Lincoln, right?

Lexa shook her head, leaning forward, inches away from Clarke’s face. “Don’t ever say that.” She warned lowly, her voice not allowing room for doubt.

Clarke felt Lexa’s hands on either side of her, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“Do you hear me, Clarke?” Lexa whispered.

Clarke nodded, throat dry. “Yes.”

“It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

“It isn’t yours, either.”

“I’m a leader, Clarke. It’s all my responsibility, in the end…” Lexa’s voice was sad, and Clarke wanted nothing more than to lean forward, to take in Lexa’s luscious, full lips, to press her body against hers, to take away Lexa’s false guilt, and pain, and suffering.

Their breathing was labored, a thick, tangible heat between them.

Clarke noticed the little, beautiful aspects of Lexa’s face, like her long eyelashes and the high set curve of her cheekbones.

She ached for her.

Clarke leaned forward, lips centimeters away from Lexa’s, before the door opened.

Lincoln was there, head bowed, voice low. “Heda…” He began. “They are ready for you.”

Lexa sucked in a breath and Clarke’s cheeks reddened as she leaned back, allowing Lexa space to turn.

“Tell them we’re coming.” Lexa muttered, turning around with a brisk pace.

* * *

 

Clarke had never seen something like the makeshift “trial” of sorts that Lexa appeared to have set up for Raven and Octavia.

They were both brought into the major conference room, which was buffered at every door by at least two of Lexa’s people, and the only other escape was out the window.

 But Clarke was confident that Lexa would listen to her.

That she would see reason, and the two would be safe.

She had to hope so, anyway.

The room itself had Anya and Lincoln inside, with Raven and Octavia both in, hands bound, sat in chairs, with Gustus himself leaning against the wall.

The room was brightly lit, reflecting the angry faces that had congregated within it.

Clarke had expected Raven to jeer when Lexa walked in, doors opened for her rather regally.

She was silent, ungagged, and respectful.

Clarke had to wonder what the hell was going on.

Lexa nodded her thanks to Gustus and then stepped forward, Clarke in tow, silently making eye contact with Octavia in the form of a quick nod.

She would protect them, speak on their behalf to Lexa, if need be.

That was conveyed silently, right then and there.

Lexa cleared her throat. “My people are dying to witness this. I have done you a kindness and sent them about their work. Don’t make me regret it.” Her voice was firm, demanding, as she locked eyes with Octavia, first.

Octavia nodded slowly tensing. “We don’t mean any harm.”

Lincoln watched from his chair beside her, eyeing Lexa nervously.

She could, if she wanted, brandish a weapon and execute the two Arkers right there on sight.

He knew he had to make them behave, if they wanted to live to see another day.

“So.” Lexa began with a huff. “You and Lincoln have had an ongoing affair, lying to both your people, for how long, now?”

Lincoln glanced down, and Octavia bit her lip.

Clarke cleared her throat. “Months.” She spoke softly, and Lexa gestured a secret thank you to her from behind her back.

“Screw you, Clarke.” Octavia spat with disdain, having felt as though she’d been sold out.

Clarke winced at her reaction, but Lexa narrowed her eyes, raising her hand up to silence her. “You should learn from Clarke. The more you cooperate, the better this ends for you.”

Anya spoke for the first time from beside Gustus, eyes boring holes into Octavia’s. “You would endanger him by remaining with him, even now? After what your monster of a brother did to him?”

Octavia bowed her head and Lincoln growled. “ _Shof Op_ , Anya! This doesn’t concern you!”

Anya rolled her eyes, “What good is trigedasleng if you teach it to your little Blake whor-”

Lexa cleared her throat, and the conversation was stopped almost immediately.

Raven had been staring at Anya intensely, all the while, Clarke noticed her eyes roaming Anya’s figure.

Octavia looked away, unable to challenge that.

Lexa laid a hard gaze on Lincoln, who, to Clarke’s surprise, did not shy away.

“Lovers share everything.” Lexa accused.

Lincoln denied nothing. “Do you not share everything with Clarke?”

Clarke’s eyes widened and Lexa froze.

Gustus growled. “Watch your place, brother. Do not be so easily blinded by love.”

Lexa took a step forward, towards Octavia, and Lincoln did the unthinkable.

He pushed himself out of his chair, unsteadily rocking forward on his agonizingly pained leg to a defensive stance before Octavia, wobbling a bit as he did so.

Lexa’s arm shot out and steadied him, and their eyes locked.

“I trust you.” Lexa’s voice was firm but quiet, and Lincoln nodded his thanks.

“And you?” Lexa whipped around on Raven, who’d looked stoic and unafraid. “Are you also having an affair with my people?”

Raven smirked at that cold, dry humor. “I came for answers.”

“Answers?” Lexa pressed, eyes falling to Clarke for half a second.

“Yeah.” Raven nodded cockily. “Seeing as how you tore my family apart, I figured here was the place to start.”

Lexa’s jaw clenched and Clarke leapt in. “Ray, I can explain…”

Raven’s eyes shot to Clarke. “You?” She scoffed. “You know, at least Octavia went all out and ignored me completely.” Raven growled. “You? You pretended to be innocent, to be on my side…” Raven shook her head. “But you know what? You’re a fucking spoiled princess, Clarke. You weren’t using her.” She jerked her head at Lexa. “You actually fucking fell for her.”

Clarke bit her lip, and Lexa came soaring to her defense, furious that anyone was insolent enough to speak to Clarke in that way.

“Clarke is offering you a chance, to the truth.” Lexa spat, eyes boring into Raven’s. “I would take it, if I were you. These might be your last moments.”

Raven cocked a brow, frowning. “No! You know what? Enough with the secrecy!” She roared. “You have something to say? Fucking say it right here, right now, in front of everyone!” Raven spat.

Clarke paled, and Lexa was at her side in an instant, though she didn’t want to touch her in front of everyone, to weaken her strength, her credibility.

She had to make the choice, shaky and unready as she was.

It was now or never.

It was here, or not at all.

Clarke took a breath. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Raven.” Clarke’s eyes welled up with tears, and Octavia’ glanced down, knowing what was coming, as Lincoln had told her.

“Just spit it out, Clarke. No bullshit.” Raven’s voice was tense, angry, and yet her eyes reflected immense worry for Clarke and her now pooling tears.

Lexa’s gaze was heavy, darkened by the knowledge of the truth, by Clarke’s sadness.

“Bellamy killed Finn.” Clarke murmured gently.

Raven stiffened in her seat. “What?” She demanded.

Clarke nodded slowly, reinforcing her previous statement.

Raven tried to get up, and was pushed back down by Gustus with a grunt.

“Shut the fuck up.” Raven’s first response was tearing, it was destroying everything in sight. “How could you?”

Clarke looked taken aback. “Ray, I…I…It’s true, he…”

Raven shook her head. “You buy the shit that this bitch feeds you?” Her gaze, aimed at Lexa, was menacing. “No!” Raven cried out. “I won’t sit here, and….and-”

“Raven, she’s telling the truth!” Octavia exclaimed, turning to Raven with bitterness in her tone. “He lied to us, okay? He lied to all of us.”

Lexa’s voice was hardened, her walls fully up. “His death was forged by Roan Queen.” Lexa sighed. “He made it look like suicide.”

“Why?” Raven’s bottom lip quivered, and her defenses were gone. She remembered complimenting Roan on his god-given abilities to fight, to maim, to kill.

Never did she think to connect the dots, the evidence so clearly laid out before her.

Anya’s eyes had a glint of sympathy in them.

She and Raven were in the same boat.

Both betrayed by someone they loved, for the other side.

Both having been chosen last, in love, and in life.

They were still fighting, still surviving.

Wasn’t that something?

But Bellamy was her protector. He’d never do anything like that…unless Clarke had something to do with it.

Raven’s eyes lit up with an anger that burned brightly and intensely within her. “Was he jealous?” She spat. “Of you and Finn?”

Clarke shook her head, stumbling over her words. “I….I…I don’t know…”

“We can get you those answers.” Lexa promised. “Together.”

Raven looked heartbroken.

Octavia was the first to speak up. “I…I’ll swear it. My fealty. To you.” Her voice was bold and headstrong as ever, and she sounded like she knew what she was signing up for.

Lexa whipped around, eyes widening.

Anya snorted. “What make you think we’d want your kind in our ranks?”

Lexa paused. “Anya…”

Anya’s eyes widened, glaring at Octavia’s hopeful stare. “You can’t be serious, Heda.”

Octavia spoke up once more to defend her case. “I…I don’t see the point in this war…in our side anymore. I want peace. I want to serve you. I’m done.” Her eyes found Lincoln’s in a warm blaze of love and affection. “I want to stay.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “How can I trust you?”

Clarke cleared her throat. “I can vouch for her, Heda. She’s my sister.”

Lexa looked at Clarke for a moment before nodding.

Raven choked out a sob, fury dripping from her voice. “Octavia! No, you can’t be fucking serious! Bellamy will kill you! Fuck, he’ll kill us all!”

Octavia’s gaze hardened. “I’m not living under his shadow anymore.”

Clarke took in the scene.

It was finally happening.

From the ashes of her old family…came the birth of her new one.

“Fine.” Lexa motioned to Octavia and Lincoln. “We will discuss the terms in length in my office. I will have leverage over this promise, is that understood?” Her voice demanded everything Octavia had.

Lincoln grinned and nodded, perhaps when he shouldn’t have, but Octavia mirrored his look.

“Get them out, Gustus. My office.” Lexa ordered.

Gustus did as he was told, and Raven watched in horror as Octavia left with Lincoln, leaving Clarke, Anya, and Raven in the conference room, Raven looking more defeated than she ever had in the time Clarke had known her.

“Ray…” Clarke began, unsure of what to say.

Lexa’s voice was firm. “Her loyalty is shattered. She’s lost.”

Raven looked up. “You don’t have a heart, do you?” Raven seethed. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone you loved!”

Lexa’s jaw set as her eyes fell to Clarke’s abdomen, picturing her bleeding out on the pavement.

Raven Reyes knew nothing of her heart.

“I lost Costia to Bellamy.” Lexa’s voice was low, pained.

“He manipulated her.” Raven growled. “That’s not the same.”

Clarke’s face fell at the mention of Costia.

“If Finn’s death is any indication, Costia’s time is coming.” Lexa murmured, and Anya gazed at her sympathetically. “I don’t want any more bloodshed.”

“Yeah?” Raven snarled. “What do you want from me, huh? You’ve taken everything.”

Lexa glanced at her uneasily. “Your silence.” She spoke with an edge that stunned Clarke. “And I don’t care how I obtain it.”

Raven exposed her neck a little, smirking.

Clarke knew it was all a façade. That she was in agony.

And god, she wanted to help. She did.

“Yeah?” Raven prodded. “Do it, Commander.” Raven taunted. “I hear you’re good with knives, huh? Why don’t you show me? End this.”

Lexa tensed, thinking of the day she’d first caught Clarke, with similar results.

Anya spoke up, eyeing Raven brutally. “Stop. This is not a show of strength, Reyes, this is weakness.”

“Yeah?” Raven eyed her, standing up so that they were face to face.

Lexa tensed, but Anya waved her off.

“Look at that pretty face of yours, all sad and alone.” Raven teased bitingly. “You and I? We got fucked over, here.”

Anya blinked, taking in Raven’s features very closely. “You’re in pain. That much I understand. But do not tempt fate, Reyes. It’ll bite you in the ass.” She pushed Raven back into her chair, and Raven stared up at her in shock.

Clarke watched the moment unravel with unsated curiosity.

It was as if the two shared an unspoken connection, bound with thick knots of anger, and hate, and denial.

“I say we recruit her.” Anya turned to Lexa.

Lexa’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I think she would be a valuable asset to the organization.” Anya repeated, ignoring Raven’s dumbfounded gaze.

“What makes you think I would ever-”Raven’s protest was cut off by Clarke.

“Shut up, Raven, she’s saving you!” Clarke hissed.

Lexa blinked once. “What kind of asset?” She demanded.

“Firstly…to Lincoln.” Anya began. “She has had similar obstacles in her lifetime.” Anya nudged Raven’s leg, and Lexa nodded in understanding.

Raven rolled her eyes, a clear mask over her tear stained cheeks. “Like I would ever fucking help-”

“You should.” Anya’s voice was overriding hers. “You helped get him there.”

Raven had shot Lincoln in the first place.

Clarke wanted to jump out the window herself, at that point.  Anya was very proficient at this mental game she was spinning, but she was grateful. It was keeping Raven alive and important, in Lexa’s view.

Clarke didn’t envy the burden on Lexa’s shoulders, what with her people aching to murder every Arker in sight. They wouldn’t take kindly to her keeping Raven or Octavia.

“And your second point?” Lexa asked dryly, eyeing Anya curiously.

“Information.” Anya spoke wryly. “She has it, so does the Blake girl. We’d have every advantage over Bellamy. His plans, his people, everything.”

Lexa nodded once, thinking, taking in every word that Anya had said. She turned to Raven, who’d been watching the exchange with saddened eyes. “You have an hour to decide.”

Raven looked up into her gaze, her face blank.

“One hour to decide whether you’re going to cooperate. If you do, you’re one of my people. I protect you, I treat you as I treat everyone else, and you get to begin anew with Clarke and Octavia.” Lexa’s voice was calm, unshaken by the possibilities of Raven’s response. “If you don’t, I will personally have you delivered to Bellamy, and you can forget any of this ever happened.” Lexa finished. “Choose wisely, Raven.”

She turned on her heel, glancing at Clarke as she stepped outside, likely going to her office to speak with Octavia and Lincoln.

Clarke remained frozen in place for some time. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Don’t.” Raven challenged from her seat, her voice dejected, thick with evidence of her heartbreak.

“Raven….”

“Did you love him?” Raven whispered.

Clarke froze. “I….what?”

“Finn.” Raven’s voice wasn’t as reproachful as it was small, exposed. “Did you love him, Clarke?”

Clarke shook her head silently.

Raven nodded slowly. “I did.” She murmured.

Clarke, unsure of what to say, glanced out the window that Anya had been leaning against, using it as an empty excuse to avoid Raven’s interrogative gaze.

Seasons had passed, since Finn’s death. The world kept spinning on and on, and the sunrises and sunsets were no longer painful, after a while. Children still played in the streets, and laughter came back to Clarke.

She was not in love with Finn Collins.

The thought of losing Lexa Woods like that, however, lit a fire inside Clarke that consumed her. She knew it was just a hypothetical, that Lexa was safely in her office, but the thought shook her to her very core.

She knew what Raven wanted to hear.

She was determined to help her best friend find closure, no matter the cost.

“Raven…” Clarke sighed, turning towards her. “We’ll…We’ll get him, okay? We’ll get Bellamy back.”

Raven’s jaw tightened as she looked up at Clarke, bloody murder in her gaze. “Bellamy Blake is dead to me.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. She glanced at Anya, who motioned towards the door, suggesting that Clarke give her a few moments alone with Raven.

Clarke was at a loss for words as she quietly stumbled out of the room, heart and head aching as one.

* * *

 

The thick, unwavering silence that was laid out between Anya and Raven, the only two left in the conference room, was tense.

Anya, quite the stoic, managed to look entirely unbothered by the entire ordeal.

Raven, on the other hand, grew increasingly impatient with every second, and every tick of the clock on the wall before them.

“Why’d you back me up?” Raven’s first attempt was a mutter that almost escaped Anya’s attention, had she not been fully invested in watching Raven’s eyes.

“Pity?” Anya shrugged dryly.

“Bullshit.” Raven spat, shaking her head. “You’re lying. Anyone who pitied me wouldn’t have pushed me like that.”

“Am I supposed to apologize?” Anya sneered, taking a step toward Raven. “You are the enemy, after all.”

“Oh, and now I’m supposed to trust everything you say, right?” Raven growled. “I can’t trust anything. Not Lexa, not Bellamy, not even Clarke…”

“Clarke cares.” Anya noted.

“Yeah?” Raven scoffed. “You think she cared enough to tell me the truth?”

“She did now.” Anya rolled her eyes. “She defended you to Lexa.”

“I don’t need anyone to defend me!” Raven tore through the silence, chancing a glance at her bad leg.

“Shut up.” Anya retorted sharply. “Like hell you don’t. If Clarke hadn’t softened Lexa up like that, you’d be a dead woman.”

Raven fell silent for a moment. When she spoke up, it was bitter, uncontrolled and untamed. “Yeah? Clarke’s an idiot. An idiot screwing the most dangerous bitch alive.”

Anya’s eyes narrowed. “Just because your idol, Bellamy, fucked you over, doesn’t mean you dare disrespect mine.”

Raven snorted then, shaking her head. “What kind of leash does she have on you?”

Anya glared at her. “Lexa Woods saved me.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, the Blakes took me off the streets. How original.”

“You’re smart, Raven.” Anya pressed quietly. “Lexa sees that.”

Raven suddenly looked tearful. “What, so she can use me? Bellamy used me as his goddamned killing machine, and look where it’s gotten me!”

Anya put her hand on the table, holding Raven’s chin defiantly. “Chit nou frag yu op na teik yu ste mou yuj.” _What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger_.  

Her words were clear, her tongue sharp. She challenged Raven by staring into the very depths of her soul through placid, brown eyes.

Raven’s eyes widened ever so slightly in recognition. She’d heard about the Woods family, their old language that every Grounder learned.

She’d always envied it.

Raven was always bright, ever since her early years. She loved problems, she’d loved finding solutions, and she loved the pursuit of knowledge. Hell, she wanted to be an engineer at some point, before she ended up on the streets, no family in place, prospects shattered.

She’d always loved puzzles, riddles, the unknown.

And here, Anya was trying to reach her, to shake her, to wake her up. She couldn’t understand the words, but she could sense, feel the inherent meaning behind them as they echoed in her mind.

“Wha…what the hell does that mean?” Raven couldn’t help the curiosity that poured out of the cracks in her otherwise weakening façade of apathy.

“Stay and find out.” Anya suggested in a low whisper as she turned, leaving Raven alone in the conference room with the words dancing around in her recent memory.

* * *

 

Clarke caught Lexa in the hallway before she could enter her office, where Gustus had Lincoln and Octavia waiting for Lexa to finalize their change in loyalty.

Clarke was wondering how they did it? Was it legally bound? Like a document they had to sign? Was it a blood oath? Were those only in movies? She shuddered at the thoughts.

She’d caught Lexa’s wrist from behind, feeling Lexa stiffen and twist around, pushing Clarke against the nearest closed office door in a swift motion, hand rising as if to go to Clarke’s throat.

Lexa could usually tell when someone was behind her, as Clarke never took her by surprise. This kind of reaction meant that Lexa was deeply bothered by something, so much so that it was overpowering her senses.

Clarke’s eyes widened as she exhaled abruptly, going slack in Lexa’s grip to show she wasn’t a threat.

 Lexa’s eyes widened, just inches from Clarke’s face as she immediately dropped her hand, clutching a pen almost like a dagger.

“Clarke!” Lexa stepped back, looking as if she wanted to cut off her own hand for such an offense. “I…I didn’t hear…I…”

Clarke’s eyes widened a bit more at Lexa’s reaction. “Hey.” She breathed, catching Lexa’s hand in her own. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have…”

“Your wound.” Lexa spoke abruptly, voice low and guilt riddled. “Did I press on it?” She asked, eyes breaking contact with Clarke’s.

 “A little, but-” Clarke’s response was cut off by Lexa, whose eyes narrowed at her own mistake as she lifted her fingers towards the hem of Clarke’s shirt, lifting gently.

Clarke’s breath hitched at the contact and she damn near died when Lexa’s fingers ghosted the outskirts of her bandage, frowning when she saw a bit of red. “You’re bleeding.” She whispered, and Clarke feared for how angry she was with herself.

Clarke glanced down, eyeing the red stain on her bandage. “That’s old.” She murmured. “I…uh…ran down some stairs with Octavia, so…”

Lexa froze, eyeing Clarke with a look of immense worry. “Clarke…”

“Lexa, I’m alright.” Clarke assured her.

“Clarke…”

“Lexa, I’m a doctor!” Clarke huffed.

Lexa glanced down at her, fingers lightly running over the dents of Clarke’s abs as the two both suddenly got chills.

“Thank you.” Clarke whispered as Lexa released the hem of her shirt, emerald eyes finding hers.

“For what, Clarke?” Lexa mumbled, likely not fully paying attention the conversation.

“For saving my people.” Clarke murmured. “Or…trying. And giving them…” she motioned to the general direction of Octavia and Lincoln, “-a second chance. I know it isn’t easy for you…”

Lexa dipped her head slightly. “I want this war to end too, Clarke.” She began, slightly shy. “But…not at the cost of my people, and their well-being. That has to come first.” She admitted lowly, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat.

Clarke nodded, straightening herself out as Lexa took a breath, stepping back.

There had to be that distance between them.

That gap between Clarke’s people and Lexa’s people.

That unconquerable divide that split seas and shattered hearts.

Octavia took the leap for Lincoln, leaving behind everything she’d known for love.

Lexa didn’t have that privilege.

She could never step away, disentangle herself from her duties.

She could never ask Clarke to, either.

 “I should talk to Lincoln and Octavia.” Lexa murmured, and Clarke watched her go in first before following suit.

* * *

 

There was no ceremony, no blood oath, and certainly no paperwork.

However, as a sign of respect, Lincoln told Octavia to bend the knee to Lexa, and kneel for a moment, which she actually did.

Clarke had never seen Octavia so willing to accept the rules, the authority, the consequences.

It seemed love really did change a person.

Though, was it for the better? That was the question.

Octavia had sworn what was, at surface value, an oath.

An oath to serve Lexa to the best of her abilities.

An oath to put the Grounders before all else.

An oath that made her, officially, part of the family.

Under the protection of Lexa Woods.

Clarke had to think that was the safest place to be.

It wasn’t until Anya pushed the door open, Raven Reyes coming in behind her, that anyone in the room interrupted Lexa’s demands about what information she needed on Bellamy’s activities.

Lexa’s eyes shot up and Gustus stepped forward menacingly towards Raven, who held her head high, tear stains on her cheeks.

Clarke looked worried, coming in from behind Lexa to get between Raven and Gustus, but Lexa waved him off calmly.

Lexa met Raven’s eyes, the defiance and stubbornness enough to make them look like twins.

“You’ve made your decision?” Lexa asked calmly, sitting regally in her chair.

Clarke and Octavia exchanged hopeful glances, knowing full well that this was the only option that wouldn’t pit them against Raven.

 Raven froze, and Clarke saw Anya’s gaze boring into her, just waiting, willing the words to come out and secure Raven’s position.

“I have.” Raven spoke tensely.

“So, what are you?” Lexa asked calmly, folding her hands together.

Raven furrowed her brow in confusion.

Lexa elaborated, then. “Are you a Grounder? Or an Arker?”

Raven winced at the way it was phrased.

She’d spent her adult life killing, picking off Lexa’s people at Bellamy’s leisure.

To adopt a name she’d sullied with blood would be no easy task.

Clarke bit her lip. Lexa was using that particular phrasing on purpose, knowing it would weed out Raven’s doubts and reservations, if she had any.

Raven stiffened. “I’m a Grounder…on one condition.”

Lexa raised a sculpted brow, mouth twitching in a wry smile. “What’s that?”

Raven’s jaw locked, much like Lexa’s when she was angry, as she’d bent the knee like Anya had told her to. “We murder Bellamy Blake.”

Octavia’s eyes met Clarke’s in an intense look of panic as Anya and Lexa froze, exchanging glances.

Clarke felt her throat dry, chills running across her arm as Lexa murmured, “Done.”

Clarke knew the inevitable end result was death. She’d known, she’d thought about it over and over and over again.

Bellamy’s death wasn’t something she could tolerate.

Lexa’s death wasn’t something she could survive.

Clarke couldn’t handle death. She wasn’t equipped to deal with her father, or Emerson, and she certainly wasn’t now.

Clarke knew she had to find a way to save everyone.

But that was impossible in a war, wasn’t it?

So then, who became the bad guy? Who would become the one to pull the trigger and whisper themselves awake in the early hours of the morning, guilt-wracked and destroyed inside?

Clarke knew, deep within her, the answer.

If it came down to that one, fatal moment…she would bear it, so the others wouldn’t have to.

They rose from their respective seats then, Lincoln eager to show Octavia his world without fear of barriers, of loss, of being found out.

Raven even glanced at Lincoln’s leg with a telltale Raven Reyes smirk. “I..uh…think I can help you with that.” She’d uttered, and Anya smirked from behind her with a sense of satisfaction and pride.

Lexa’s eyes met with Clarke’s as she huffed out a quiet, “I’m glad Nia wasn’t here for this ordeal.”

Raven whipped around on the spot, ears perking at the name. “Nia Queen?” She demanded.

Clarke’s eyes widened in realization. Bellamy had mentioned about meeting her.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed as she awaited her first official piece of intel from Raven.

“Nia Queen and Roan have been meeting with Bellamy for weeks.” Raven began quietly.

Octavia glanced away. She’d been absent for those meetings, in her haste to meet with Lincoln.

Clarke nodded slowly, prodding Raven. “Right. We know she wants Lexa’s seat, but…?”

Raven shook her head. “No. I….I lied, when I said I came here for answers. I didn’t.” Raven began shakily.

Anya looked concerned. “What is it, Reyes?” She asked sharply.

“Bellamy put out a hit on you.” Raven glanced at Lexa. “He wants you dead.”

Lincoln piped up. “How is this different from any other day?” His voice carried the confusion of the group.

“He sent me to do it.” Raven explained. “And…and if he thought you caught me, which you did…He said he’d send Roan to finish the job.”

Clarke couldn’t fight her gasp as she wheeled around on Lexa.

Roan was good. Clarke shuddered as she remembered his handiwork with Finn. Lexa couldn’t fall to the same fate.

“Lexa, we can’t-” Clarke’s cry of protest was cut off by Lexa.

“If he wants me, he can have me.” Lexa decided calmly, hands folded behind her back. “But my people won’t be endangered over this. Just him and me. Emerson’s. By five.” She glanced at her watch, ignoring Clarke’s gasp and Anya’s face of horror.

Anya shook her head. “Lexa, he’s a killer. I’ll take our people, we can get him when he-”

Lexa shook her head, jaw tightening as her gaze pierced those of everyone in the room. “Ai laik Heda. Non na throu daun gon ai.” She spoke with a powerful, commanding voice, leaving everyone stopping in their tracks.

_I am the commander. No one fights for me._

But oh, Clarke would have.

* * *

 

Lincoln and Octavia stepped out of Lexa’s office, Octavia kneeling in front of him as they settled into the hallway, weary smiles on both their faces.

“We did it.” Octavia murmured, leaning forward to capture Lincoln’s lips in a tender, soft kiss.

Lincoln smiled against her lips, but his eyes were glossed over with a worry Octavia knew all too well.

“It’s Lexa, isn’t it?” Octavia huffed, taking his hands in her own.

Lincoln nodded, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin. “I worry for her.”

“I know you do.” Octavia murmured gently.

“You don’t? She’s your commander too, now…” Lincoln reminded, hating to cause that dull ache in Octavia’s cobalt gaze.

“Of course I do.” Octavia nodded. “Roan is…”

“Deadly.” Raven chimed in, shutting the door behind her. “Should be a good fight.”

Octavia glanced up at Raven, offering her a weak smile. “You…you’re with us…”

Raven bit her lip. “Don’t, Octavia. This doesn’t make things magically okay between us.”

Octavia grimaced, but Raven was insistent on having her feelings heard.

“You lied to me. You and Clarke. And you know what? What hurts the most wasn’t that both of you went off and fell in love with the enemy, because, hell…have you seen Lexa?” Raven’s old sass seemed to be making a brief appearance before she adjusted her tone. “What kills me is that….neither of you trusted me, or our friendship, at least….enough to tell me the truth.”

Octavia sighed, nodding slowly. She knew mending her relationship with Raven would take time. “What matters is…you’re safe.” Octavia spoke silently, eyes meeting with Raven’s in a moment of pure appreciation.

Raven laughed dryly. “In the heart of Lexa Woods’ clutches, too. Who’d have thought it?”

* * *

 

Lexa’s office cleared with mild chaos as Lexa leaned back against her window, taking in a deep breath.

At first, it was just Anya and Clarke remaining.

The silence remained unbroken, the fear coming off Anya and Clarke in palpable waves.

Anya waited for Lexa to say something.

The words came out of Lexa’s full lips, heavy and low, and full of doubt. “Anya. You’re sure about this Reyes girl?”

Anya nodded firmly. “She won’t be an issue. I’ll vouch for her.”

Clarke raised a brow in surprise, wondering why Anya had taken such a sudden interest in Raven, rather, preserving her.

It was rather odd, and if Lexa’s life hadn’t just been challenged, she would have had time to linger on the issue.

Lexa gave her a curt nod.

“Lexa…” Anya sighed, stepping forward. “I know that besting Roan in a fight would be symbolic, but…at what cost, Lexa?”

“Someone has to stop them eventually.” Lexa murmured, and Anya glanced at her for a moment before leaving the room with a quiet sigh.

Only Clarke remained, standing behind her, worry radiating off her as she struggled to maintain her composure.

“Lexa.” She spoke quietly, words unsurely manifesting themselves in a hushed whisper.

“Clarke.” Lexa replied steadily, gaze falling to the ant-like people below.

“You can’t do this.” Clarke’s voice was adamant, begging, pleading.

“I know you want your people protected, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, turning around. “And I said they would be…But…Anya is my second. Should I fall, she takes charge, and she will protect your people all the same.” Lexa offered her a small smile. “See? You have nothing to worry about.”

Clarke didn’t know how to respond.

 _That_ was what Lexa thought she was worried about?

Clarke felt suddenly guilty. Maybe her people were supposed to be at the top of her list of concerns, but she couldn’t help it.

This was _Lexa_ they were talking about.

 _Her_ _Lexa._

She scoffed, brushing her blonde locks out of her face. “Anya? You’re leaving my people to Anya?”

Lexa shook her head. “She’s more than capable, Clarke.”

Clarke snapped. “That’s not the point!” Clarke took a step forward, so that they were face to face.

“What is it, Clarke?” Lexa’s voice rose, mirroring Clarke’s.

“She’s….she’s not you.” Clarke admitted, her voice small, the lump in her throat threatening to turn into a sob. She kept her harsh demeanor, though, hoping it would make Lexa see her as an equal, with good wisdom and advice to offer.

Lexa’s gaze softened momentarily before she could catch herself.

If only Clarke knew how Lexa saw her.

That Lexa thought more of her than anything and anyone else in the world.

That Lexa worshipped the ground she walked on, and every breath in her body, and every thought in her mind.

“I cannot just shy away from my duties to these people at the first sign of a threat, Clarke!” Lexa replied headily.

Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “You could die, Lexa!”

“You haven’t seen me fight!” Lexa snapped, eyes hot and alive, sending chills through Clarke.

That was how she always wanted Lexa to be. Alive, and well, with that insatiable fire coursing through her veins and her emerald eyes blazing into Clarke’s.

Clarke had seen only a few incidents here and there, but she knew Lexa was right.

"I've seen you fight Anya!" Clarke protested weakly, cerulean eyes pleading with Lexa. 

"That was nothing." Lexa's voice was proud, strong, unwavering.

Clarke shook her head. “I won't stand here and watch you die!"

Their faces were so close, and they were both breathing deeply, a result of their snapping at one another.

This was no fight born of rage, or contempt, or even true anger. This was kindled from the flames of love, and that made it all the more intense, intimate, personal, and dangerous.

Lexa wheeled around. “If I lose my life protecting you from Roan, so be it! I won’t be around forever, and you need to accept that!” Lexa seethed.

“Like hell I do!” Clarke roared back, storming out of Lexa’s office as the door slammed shut, leaving Lexa’s heart hammering and yet, in tatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The fight, a death, one of my fave Clexa scenes, and 2 more characters added in ;) it's one of my FAVE chapters!!!
> 
> Thank you all for the kind words/kudos on here and tumblr, it really means the world and I'm so proud of how this story has grown! I always look forward to reading all of your amazing comments, and you never disappoint, so thanks! 
> 
> I'm at Effortlessly-Opulent on Tumblr if you'd like to talk about my fics, look at story art, or yell at me ;) 
> 
> Need some fluff? 
> 
> Fake Dating AU (UPDATED WEDNESDAYS): http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439
> 
> Canon Clexa/Aden Family Fluff: (UPDATED THURS): http://archiveofourown.org/works/6409051
> 
> See you all right back here (hopefully) on Wednesday evening!


	17. Watch The Thrones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Roan fight to the death, while Clarke scrambles to save Lexa, risking everything and anything.

 

Within the few short hours that Lexa had allotted herself to prepare, news of the impending fight spread like a forest wildfire throughout the ranks of the Grounders.

 Clarke had disappeared from the building, and Lexa had immediately felt the loss of her absence.

It struck her, and she couldn’t help but worry for Clarke.

Where had she gone? What was she planning? Had she tried to strike some sort of deal? Lexa knew she was so outrageously stubborn, and god, while Lexa loved that about her, it wouldn’t allow her to clear her mind, to think properly.

Clarke Griffin was the most intoxicating; sweetest liability she’d ever faced.

Anya had been charged with keeping an eye out for Raven and Octavia. Though they’d sworn their fealty, Lexa wanted to be sure they weren’t planning anything behind her back.

They were new, and like all initiates, Lexa assigned Anya to shadow them, as they couldn’t fully be trusted.

In Lexa’s mind, trust came with time, proven over and over again through sacrifice and hardship.

Like her affections for Clarke, which drove her mad.

So now, as she sat in her office, staring blankly at the ceiling, she was surprised to find that Clarke wasn’t there with her.

It made her feel empty, alone, incomplete.

She’d never understand how Clarke Griffin had taken up so much of her world. And she’d never understand how willingly she gave herself away.

The whispers she’d heard, in her brief venture into the lower floors of the building, weren’t entirely reassuring.

People were doubting her.

For the first time in her reign, some of her own people thought she was weak, for letting so many outsiders in, for sparing people in ways she never would have before Clarke.

Lexa seethed at every harsh whisper, every foul word against her, and against Clarke. She’d known that words were meaningless. The only way to silence them was with the grandest gesture of action.

Lexa Woods knew that someone was going to die.

She also knew that, if probability was anything to go by, it might have been her.

And yet, when she thought of the threat Bellamy posed to Clarke, the threat of Roan, and the threat of the doubters in her own organization…she took a breath and steeled herself.

Maybe her parents were right, all along.

Maybe bloodshed was inevitable.

“Maybe blood must have blood.” Her murmurings were lost on her own dull, aching mind.

She leaned forward, thoughts igniting in her mind as she set about writing something before it consumed her. 

* * *

 

“I don’t get it, why isn’t she preparing?” Octavia spoke up from her seat, hand loosely in Lincoln’s as she watched Anya pace about the lobby like a nervous wreck.

“What should she be doing?” Lincoln murmured.

Octavia looked perplexed. “I don’t know, polishing her guns?”

Raven spoke up, throat dry and voice almost monotonous. “Nope. No guns. It’s a street fight.”

Octavia blinked in surprise and Anya stopped her pacing, nodding.

“Raven’s right.” Anya sighed. “It’s more of a tradition, a show of strength.”

Octavia scrunched her nose in distaste. “That’s fucking barbaric.”

“It’s tradition.” Lincoln murmured. “It can be…artfully done.”

“Yeah but, can Lexa take Roan?” Raven asked unsurely. “He’s…kind of good at this.”

Anya’s eyes narrowed. “Lexa is incredibly skilled.”

“I know…I’ve heard rumors.” Raven mumbled, rubbing a hand on her numb leg. Anya stared at her hand for perhaps a moment too long, as Raven shot her a glare, and she looked away.

“So, what?” Octavia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Lexa just…goes there and fights Roan?”

“Kills him.” Lincoln muttered, watching Octavia’s eyes widen as he corrected her. “It is, at its roots, a death match.”

Raven looked mildly uncomfortable in her seat. “Roan might play dirty.”

Anya looked concerned. “I know.”

“Well, have you tried speaking to her?” Lincoln asked gently. “Talking some sense into Lexa? We can take out Roan if we have a plan….”

Anya sighed, shaking her head. “You know her, Lincoln. She’s losing the people’s faith. She’s worried about Clarke. She’s going to see this through, one way or another.”

Lincoln slammed his hand down on the table in front of him, magazines sliding off in a flutter. “That’s bullshit! She’s done nothing but serve them!”

Octavia cooed a gentle, “Take it easy, Linc.” Before picking up the magazines quietly.

“I should be her champion.” Lincoln sighed, teeth gritted. “I…I promised her parents I would protect her.”

“Champion?” Octavia echoed, brow furrowed. “Like…as in…fight for her? You can do that?”

Anya nodded. “It’s been done, before. But Lexa is too proud. She will do this on her own.”

Raven looked deep in thought. “If she croaks, today…Clarke’s not gonna get past this.”

Anya’s gaze hardened. “Don’t say that. Have a little faith.”

“Yeah?” Raven echoed snarkily. “What’s faith ever done for me?” She rose, slightly wobbly as she limped away from them, leg pain clearly acting up.

“She’s troubled.” Lincoln muttered, shaking his head.

Anya looked after her, closing her eyes for a moment. “Who isn’t?”

* * *

 

Clarke had never made such rash decisions in her life.

And she’d made quite a few, back in the haze of her teenage years.

But going to back to Bellamy Blake, after Lexa explicitly told her not to,  after he’d chained her to a goddamned table with handcuffs…

This had to top the list.

Breathless, bleeding from her wound ever so slightly, with rosy cheeks and lips parted into a breathless pant, she busted into Bellamy’s private office, nearly bulldozing John Murphy, who’d been leaning against the door in waiting.

“What the fuck, Griffin?” Murphy wheezed as he bolted after her, but not before she’d interrupted the meeting.

Inside the dimly lit office was indeed Bellamy Blake, smirk in place, whiskey in hand.  The little rays of light coming in through the slits on the blinds were not enough to hide the bags under his eyes.

He looked stressed, tired, achingly desperate for the man he once was.

Clarke’s heart actually broke for him. It really did.

His jaw just about dropped when Clarke stumbled in, eyes locking with Bellamy’s, and then with Nia Queen’s, and finally, presumably, Roan’s.

Roan was tall, exceedingly tall in his seat, though he was leaned back. His long hair was tied neatly behind him, his stubble covering a wry smile.

Nia was in her usual business attire, smoking a thin, dainty looking cigarette in between equally thin, bony fingers adorned with terrifying acrylic nails.

Clarke’s blood ran cold. She tried to keep her head up, to be unafraid and bold like Lexa.

She was doing this for Lexa, for her soft smiles and her warm tone and those strong arms that had caught and defended Clarke time and time again.

“Clarke?” Bellamy gaped, rising from his chair. He eyed her hands, surprised to find a lack of handcuffs.

“Bellamy, you can’t do this.” Clarke ignored Roan’s icy gaze, standing her ground.

She grunted when Murphy grabbed her arm from behind, likely an action to restrain her.

Clarke winced and Bellamy’s jaw set. “Let her go, Murphy.”

Murphy glanced at Clarke, muttering, “You lost your shit too?” Before releasing Clarke.

“Clarke. We should talk…in private.” Bellamy sighed. “After my meeting, I-”

“Right here, right now.” Clarke spoke lowly, clearly frustrated and worried sick about the woman she loved.

Nia smirked, taking a drag from her cigarette, blowing out smoke in Clarke’s general area as she spoke, her voice rumbling and dripping with a silent pleasure. “So, it seems Lexa received our…message.”

“You mean threat?” Clarke shot a glance at Roan, eyes darkening.

Roan smiled in kind.

Bellamy’s teeth were gritted in annoyance. So Raven had failed. Why did Clarke care so much? Lexa’s hold on her was far deeper than he’d thought. “Raven…”

“-Bellamy, this isn’t about Raven.” Clarke sighed impatiently.

Murphy looked up at the mention of his partner’s name. “Reyes? You sent Reyes to get Woods? Alone? What, has everyone fucking lost it?”

“Control your people, Blake!” Nia barked, reaching for the ashtray on Bellamy’s desk. “Unbelievable how both you and Woods have such…little respect from your own lackeys.”

“Lackeys?” Murphy scoffed, stepping forward. “Lady, I ought to-”

Roan chuckled a deep, throaty laugh that silenced the room, everyone shooting him glares. He leaned back in his seat, eyeing his mother with amusement.

“Something funny, Queen?” Bellamy practically barked, anger igniting within him.

“No.” Roan stopped, coughing a little to cover up his remaining smile. “Just the thought of my mother getting her ass handed to her by this one.” He flicked his gaze towards Murphy.

Nia’s eyes narrowed. “Your insolence is why Ontari is doing far better than you, in this life, my little prince.” The words were filled with venom, and Clarke’s eyes widened as Roan kicked down on Bellamy’s desk, where an idle pen had been resting, so that it launched up into the air.

He caught it in one swift motion, poised as if it were a dagger, aimed at Nia’s chest.

“A pen?” Nia scoffed, but it was all a bluff, all for show. “You’ve been reduced to _a pen_ , since I so graciously let you go from this family? You’re faring…poorly.” Nia’s grin was wicked.

“I could kill you with less.” Roan growled, and Clarke’s mind flashed to the moment where she’d startled Lexa hours ago, how she’d used a pen as a weapon against her surprise aggressor.

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat.

She had to take note of that exchange.

Roan threatened to kill his own mother with a pen.

These were savages, barbarians…madmen.

Bellamy slammed his hand down on the desk. “Enough! Kill each other when you aren’t working for me!” He growled and the room fell silent.

Just before Bellamy could open his mouth to speak up once more, the office door opened, and Dax revealed himself, hands folded professionally.

Murphy, taking his position as Bellamy’s personal guard, wheeled around, teeth bared like a feral dog. “No one taught you to knock, Dax?” He snapped.

Dax looked deeply unsettled, widened eyes finding Clarke’s for a moment in surprise before meeting Bellamy’s demanding gaze.

Bellamy seemed to understand that Dax had urgent news. “What is it?” He asked, more softly than before.

“It’s…Lexa’s man. The big one.” Dax stepped aside, revealing Gustus, whose hands had been bound neatly behind him, clearly searched for weapons.

Clarke’s heart broke. “Gustus!” She cried, making a movement toward him, but he glanced up into Clarke’s eyes, chancing a reassuring smile.

“Wanheda.” He dipped his head slightly. “I am unharmed. I come here for two reasons.”

Bellamy’s arms folded as he smirked, leaning against the file cabinet behind him. “Let me guess….Lexa suddenly wants another peace agreement?” He grinned at Roan, who watched the ordeal with mild interest.

Gustus’ eyes hardened, and Clarke knew it was taking everything in him not to do something incredibly stupid, like attacking Bellamy head on. “No.” His voice was rough.

“Humor me.” Bellamy sighed, leaning back. “Before I have my people throw you out the goddamned window.”

Clarke tensed, but gave Gustus the chance to speak. He was there on Lexa’s orders, no doubt.

Maybe Lexa had a plan.

Maybe this nightmare could all be over and she could get back to Lexa, and they could talk, uninterrupted, without fearing for their lives…

Maybe.

Clarke sucked in a breath, waiting, hoping, allowing a divine light to shine on her thoughts, even for just a moment.

“Firstly- Heda says she accepts your challenge.” Gustus grunted, eyes searching Bellamy’s.

Bellamy grinned. “How bold. And you’re here to deliver this in person?”

Gustus nodded. “As a show of good faith that you will not try anything at the fight.”

Bellamy nodded now. “I won’t have to. I have Roan.”

Roan looked grim as he gave a single nod, eyes searching Clarke’s, for some apparent reason.

It was as if he was trying to piece every hidden part of the overlapping puzzle together.

“And your second reason?” Bellamy asked after a moment.

Gustus glanced at Clarke. “She comes with me.”

At that, Bellamy bristled. “Are you-”

Clarke jumped in, putting a hand on Bellamy’s chest, both silencing him and distancing him from Gustus. “Bell.” She sighed, using her best husky, calming voice. “Can we please just…talk for a moment? In private?”

Clarke knew it was a risk, especially considering what had happened last time they were alone.

But Gustus was here.

And Lexa knew to come looking for them.

Hell, Clarke knew she’d leave no stone unturned and send in the entire cavalry after them.

So she gambled with her own fate, in exchange for a glimpse of hope at saving Lexa’s.

Bellamy nodded slowly, turning to Roan and Nia. “Just…a moment.” He sighed, allowing Clarke to lead him into the next room, grateful that the walls were thick enough to block out ambient noise.

“Clarke.” Bellamy croaked, likely the result of being in such close proximity to her. “What are you-”

Clarke cut him off, knowing she had the distinct advantage to take control of the situation. “You can’t do this.”

Bellamy’s jaw locked as he looked down into her eyes. “Yes, I can.”

“No.” Clarke shook her head. “Lexa’s protecting us. She wants peace, she wants change. You can’t murder her.”

Bellamy looked at Clarke incredulously. “Clarke! Her motto, for the love of god, is ‘Blood Must Have Blood’! It’s on her fucking family crest!”

Clarke looked personally offended. “Who is guilty of spilling more blood, Bellamy? You, or her?”

Bellamy shook his head. “That’s different!”

Clarke looked like she was close to the edge. “How?”

Bellamy balked, taking a sharp breath in. “I…I was protecting you guys! I always have been!”

“And now?” Clarke pressed. “Do you even know where your own people are, Bellamy? Where your own sister is? Raven?”

Bellamy looked momentarily confused, and then snapped out of it, rage in his eyes. He clearly didn’t suspect them to be with Lexa. “I don’t know what sort of sick tricks she’s playing on you, but I promise this ends today, Clarke. Roan is going to take care of this mess, and then…”

“And then what?” Clarke asked, tears threatening to spill. “Bellamy, you’re reducing me to begging, here! Whatever you want for her life, I’ll do it, okay?” Clarke huffed, tears pooling in her eyes. She pulled Bellamy close by his shirt, lips connecting with his as she kissed him, every cell in her body regretting the action as his lips crashed against hers, tears staining her cheeks as they flowed freely,

Bellamy breathed raggedly as he pulled away slightly stunned, but Clarke was insistent, mumbling against his lips. “Is this what you want?” she mumbled, the trails of her tears reflecting like diamonds in the light against her skin. “Is this what it’ll take?”

Bellamy looked frozen in place, hands almost trembling as he released Clarke, shaking his head, lips still tender from Clarke’s raging kiss. “Not like this.” He shook his head. “No.”

Clarke’s heart broke as she came to the realization that there was nothing more she could possibly do for Lexa.

Her fate was in her own hands.

Clarke brought a hand to her lips, trembling as she watched Bellamy shake his head once more, every inch of him tensed. “Go with him.” He jerked his head towards Gustus, on the other side of the door.

“We’re done here.”

* * *

 

The trip back to Lexa’s building was one of lamenting and sorrow for Clarke.

She felt dirty, ashamed, and quite like a failure.

She wanted so badly to protect Lexa, and she couldn’t even do that.

She wanted to take Lexa’s hand and run, but she couldn’t, in fear of Bellamy’s retaliation.

Then who would protect her people? Their people? Octavia, Raven, Lincoln, Anya…these were people Clarke couldn’t afford to lose.

Hell, she didn’t think she could afford to lose Bellamy.

A sick truth seemed to surface, in Clarke’s mind, as she watched the pavement get swept under the wheels of Gustus’ car, as it sped along the streets of the capital.

Clarke still loved Bellamy. A part of her always would. Despite the atrocities, despite the horrors. A part of her, small and oppressed as it was, belonged to him.

He’d been good to her, in some ways.

He’d never hurt her. He’d lied, and cheated, but as he said- he believed it to be in her defense.

She would never love him like she loved Lexa, though. The kind of maddening, all-consuming, head-over-heels love that filled Clarke’s days.

She had to tell her, and after the fight, there would be an uncertainty about Lexa’s fate.

Clarke shuddered at the mere thought that she wouldn’t be able to tell Lexa how she felt, and Gustus seemed to sense that.

Glancing up from the road momentarily, Gustus murmured: “ _Klark_. You have tried, and that is all you could have done. Lay it to rest.”

Clarke stiffened at the sudden breach of silence, but was thankful for his words nonetheless. She sighed, sinking further into the leather of her chair. “What if I could have done more, Gustus?”

Gustus’ face looked grim. “Heda would not have wanted that.”

Clarke bit her lip. “But if it saved her…”

Gustus clicked his tongue once in disagreement. “Leksa does not need saving. You mistake her identity for someone far weaker, _Klark_.”

Clarke glanced up at him in confusion. Was he suggesting that she didn’t know Lexa well enough?

Gustus elaborated after a moment of tense silence. “She is gifted. Both mentally, and physically. You should gift her with the benefit of the doubt.”

Clarke couldn’t relax, she couldn’t see the world in black and white anymore, like he was suggesting.  “How can you be sure?” She murmured.

Gustus shrugged, eyes on the horizon. “I cannot.”

Clarke huffed out sadly, still feeling the unsavory burn of Bellamy on her lips.

All for nothing, it seemed.

“But I am sure of one thing.” Gustus grunted quietly.

“What’s that?” Clarke asked softly.

Immediately, she regretted it, for his answer was certainly not comforting.

“Someone will die today, _Klark_.”

* * *

 

“That’s it.” Raven murmured calculatedly as she helped Lincoln cross the lobby, steadying him as he winced. “Put a bit more pressure on your left leg.”

The main doors swung open when Gustus arrived, Clarke in tow, bathed in the sunlight of the afternoon, which now poured into the main lobby.

Clarke’s eyes snapped up to Raven and Lincoln, surprised to find them working together so closely, while Anya watched hesitantly from behind the main desk, Octavia watching worriedly from her seat to the side.

“Where’s Lexa?” Clarke asked immediately, voice quivering a little.

Octavia narrowed her eyes in worry, but it was Raven who spoke up first.

“You good Griffin? You look…sick.” Raven muttered, likely trying to keep too much emotion from spilling into her words.

Clarke bit her lip, nodding slowly. “I…I’m tired, that’s all. Where is she?”

Lincoln glanced down. “Clarke, she…” he trailed off, unable to finish.

Clarke growled impatiently. “Where?” She demanded.

Anya rolled her eyes, rising from her seat. “Enough yelling! You’re making us all tenser than we need to be. Lexa went home to prepare, Clarke.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Lexa’s…gone? Without me?”

Anya nodded, stepping forward. “She sends her apologies, but…you know, she’s in a rush, with impending death hanging over her head and all.” Her snark was almost a comfort to Clarke, as if everything were normal and alright.

Almost.

Raven even smirked a little at Anya’s tone, but said nothing.

“She left you this,” Anya jerked her head towards a sealed envelope. “It’s sealed.”

Clarke hurried forward, around Gustus, yanking the envelope from Anya’s hands.

“Gostos.” Anya’s voice turned low as Clarke tore at the envelope, grazing her fingers over Lexa’s crest, stamped into the paper so formally. “How did it go?

Gustus put out his hand and tilted it back in forth, in the form of a “so-so” motion. He nodded when Anya murmured something and Clarke caught her saying, “So she’s going through with it then.”

Clarke turned to one of the lounge seats in the corner, blocking out the rest of the world as she took in the envelope, opening it slowly.

Inside was a note, scrawled by Lexa’s hand, in slick cursive lettering. Clarke’s heart was racing as her eyes devoured the words of her lover, so elegantly crafted.

It read:

_Clarke,_

_I know you went to see Bellamy, likely to change his mind. You’re ~~wreckless~~ \- prone to impulsive behavior. You’re driven to fix everything for everyone, but sometimes, Clarke, some things can’t be fixed. Some people can’t be fixed. However, I didn’t write this to criticize you. Far be it from me to preach about poor decisions. I just wanted to convey to you that…there’s much left unsaid between us. I know that. And I also know that circumstances have not been kind to you and I, as of late. This letter is ~~to communicate to you~~ …to tell you….to have faith. In me. I want nothing more than to tell you everything, but…there’s little room left on this note as is, and Anya tells me I have to be leaving soon to prepare. I urge you not to come to Emerson’s, but I know you won’t start heeding advice now. So, I offer you a…family crest, of sorts. As a good luck charm. I’m far from superstitious, but I do believe you bring out the best in me, Clarke. _

_May we meet again,_

_Lexa Woods._

Clarke’s bottom lip, and her fingers, were trembling as she set the note down, turning it over in her lap as she found, taped to the back, a copper-golden necklace.

Clarke picked it up tenderly as she brought into the flood of light coming from the great glass window pane beside her, eyeing the charm with breathlessness.

It was simply elegant, like Lexa. It was small, so small and that it could fit in the space between Clarke’s shimmering blue eyes. It was rounded, with edges, like the sun’s rays, or a cog turning in place.

In the tiniest letters, on the back side, the word: Woods was carved into it, intricate and miniscule and yet so incredibly detailed.

Clarke was desperate to know the symbolism behind it as she held it up, watching the way it hung from the simple chain.

She knew one symbolism behind it, at least.

Love.

She tried to hold back tears as she donned it, wishing Lexa was there to clasp it on, to murmur things into her ear, with those warm, strong hands around her.

Clarke took in a breath as Anya wandered over, eyeing Clarke with concealed concern.

“Are you alright, Clarke?” Anya asked in a quiet voice, which was rather unusual for her.

She froze when her eyes caught a glimpse of the necklace, and then she broke out into the faintest of smiles. “We should go.” She murmured.

* * *

 

The tensions of war filled the streets.

Lexa Woods lived two lives.

One life as an educated, polished, wealthy C.E.O of an incredibly successful company.

Another where she dominated the streets and struck fear into the hearts of thousands.

This life was the life she wished she could shuck, and forget.

But this was the life that gripped her, that haunted her, that forged and broke her all at once.

Today, there was the distinct possibility that both of those lives could end.

Lexa was ready.

Her only regret was never telling Clarke how she felt. She’d wanted to, and she’d hoped her letter had clarified it all, but she was content to die if her last thoughts were of Clarke’s eyes, her smiles, her husky voice and her beautiful laughs.

A circle of people from nearly every walk of “street-life” as Raven had so eloquently put it, made their way around Emerson’s old parking lot.

Lexa had to keep herself from visibly flinching when she saw the faded, crimson stain of Clarke’s blood pool on the pavement, where the rain had not fully washed the memories away.

The crowd was buzzing; the feel was electric.

Lexa, through her extensive knowledge of the surrounding gangs, knew that many people had shown up to see the top Kingpin taken down by her rival’s man.

It was the talk of the underground streets.

In the corner of her eye, Lexa saw a squad car from the local police department, with the two officers talking excitedly amongst each other, both watching from their kicked back view in the safety of the car.

Lexa knew they wouldn’t dare call this in.

For one, it certainly wouldn’t behoove them. Everyone saw them, knew who they were, and where to find them if things went south. Secondly, it was a hell of a spectacle to watch Lexa Woods fight.

Everyone in the goddamned city knew that.

So when Lexa was surprised to see that Anya had arrived by herself, she was surprised, to say the least.

Anya made her way to the front of the crowd, towards the ring-like thinning in the center, where Lexa was standing, awaiting Roan’s arrival with suspicion. Her people roared from behind her, mixing into the yells emitted from all twelve gangs.

Some people were shouting for her, In fact, a majority of viewers were.

But still, she heard threats like, “Kill Lexa! Put Nia in power! For Bellamy!”

There was an unspoken rule that blood was not to be spilt on public occasions such as this, and everyone knew it.

Lexa hoped that they would stick to the traditions laid out before them.

She knew how quickly things could go south.

Heat came from the crowd in waves, and the sun even made an appearance, beating down on them in the hot late afternoon fashion.

Lexa saw some incredibly young faces in the crowd, through the corner of her verdant gaze, and shook her head in disdain.

She couldn’t imagine Aden, perhaps the only child she really knew, partaking in this savagery. How could Bellamy recruit them? They were so young, and yet…their innocence was lost, their childhoods destroyed.

And for what?

Lexa was shaken from her bitter thoughts when she felt Anya’s hand on her shoulder.

She glanced up into Anya’s eyes, which were clouded with worry. She felt a pang of regret for having caused so much pain, but such was the way of her cursed obligations.

“You look calm.” Anya commented above the dull roar.

“I am.” Lexa responded, stretching her back slightly.

Anya could see the unspoken question of Clarke on Lexa’s tongue, but she did nothing to address it. Lexa needed to focus.

“What’s your strategy?” Anya asked carefully.

“Kill him before he kills me.” Lexa retorted, eyes scanning the crowd, finding nothing she hadn’t seen before.

Anya rolled her eyes. “A substantial plan, perhaps?”

Lexa’s face was grim. “That really is my method, this time.”

Anya’s eyes widened as she eyed Lexa’s fists, balled up at her side, clenching and unclenching.

It was then, when Lexa’s eyes found a bright red leather jacket in the crowd, that she noticed Raven Reyes was hanging back patiently for Anya.

“What of the newcomers?” Lexa asked sharply. “I thought you were watching them?”

Anya nodded slowly. “I left them in Gustus’ care. I…had to be here. Raven- uh, the Reyes girl…was adamant on being here. I figured she was safer under my watch.”

Lexa eyed her for a moment, giving her a curt nod. She wanted to tease Anya a little. To prod her, and congratulate her from seemingly moving on from Lincoln. But that was, of course, a conversation for a much later time.

If Lexa survived, of course.

“Where is Clarke?” Lexa finally asked, voice carrying the slightest tinge of hope.

“I…I don’t know.” Anya’s shoulders sagged.

Lexa’s voice darkened. “Anya.” She spoke, staring directly into her second’s eyes. “Take care of her.”

“Lexa, I-”

“Please.” Lexa spoke solemnly, and Anya nodded.

“If I die-” Lexa never finished.

Anya blinked once to show her understanding. “I….Understand.”

Lexa had to wonder what on earth was delaying Roan Queen, and along with him, his or her inevitable death.

* * *

 

Roan Queen stiffened when a hooded figure appeared before him, inside the shitty little joint the local’s referred to as Emerson’s bar, where he’d requested to be alone, free of Bellamy and his mother before the fight.

He had a strong feeling he knew the shadow behind him. Smirking wryly, he didn’t turn when he asked, “Is that death I hear, stalking me?”

He whipped around, blade at Clarke’s throat, watching as she slowly, calmly removed the hood she’d been wearing to blend in a bit more.

“Oh, just the commander of death…or so I’ve heard.” Roan quipped in his deep, gravelly voice.

“We need to talk.” Clarke pressed, her face solemn and serious.

“We have nothing to talk about.” Roan responded, twirling the edge of his dagger like Clarke had seen Lexa do. “I, unlike your beloved Bellamy….do not find you…enticing enough to spare Lexa Woods.” He glanced at Clarke, eyes raking her body, but Clarke held her ground. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…I need to prepare.”

Clarke’s jaw set, and she felt herself adopt a great many of Lexa’s attributes. She tried desperately to steel her nerves, to seem like she was in control. She had to be.

Her blue gaze flitted to Roan’s scars. They were thick, and white, and they formed bubbled, harsh lines across the sides of his face as the sunlight hit them in patches throughout the bar’s shabby windows.

“Those are very intricate scars.” Clarke commented, voice low and hard.

Roan smirked. “A gift, from my mother.”

Clarke bit her lip. She had to play this right. “And, who are you people, exactly?”

“The 8th gang in the capitol district.” Roan grinned, watching Clarke’s surprised expression. “And from what I hear, we’re looking to expand.”

“Expand?” Clarke tried not to sound flustered. “Why?”

“Whoever holds Lexa’s seat, controls the Grounders. Whoever has the Grounders, has the power.” Roan shrugged. “Are we done here?”

Clarke knew she had to make her bid. She had to think on her feet. “You and your mother have a…strained relationship.” Clarke licked her lips, heart racing when Roan glanced up angrily.

“What do you want, Clarke?” Roan snapped.

Clarke knew she was getting to him. “You’re doing her bidding.” She pressed. “You kill for her, and what? She takes over?”

Roan let out a growl.

“She was willing to let you die. She kicked you out of your own family.” Clarke whispered, waking the demons within him.

“What do you want?” Roan demanded this time, wielding the knife closer to her throat once more. “Spit it out.”

“I want you to take her place.” Clarke replied coolly, gaze locking with his. “I know you’ve thought of it. I know you just want to go home.”

Her face was inches from his, and she could see the doubt she’d caused within him, clouding his gaze. “I can when I win here today.” He growled.

“But how long until she uses you again?” Clarke pressed. “How long until she forgets you, casts you out? No one can cast a Kingpin out of his turf.” Clarke hissed, watching the anger boil within him.

Roan froze, and so did the seconds that passed between that moment and his decision.

Clarke felt hope swell within her, the necklace hanging around her neck shimmering in the slim ray of light that just passed through the tinted window.

“I can’t do it.” Roan sighed, stepping back. “Her people. My family…. they’d never take me back.” He kicked at the ground, breathing heavily.

Clarke’s face fell as she glanced away.

There was no saving Lexa Woods.

“Death is inevitable in this game we play, Clarke.” Roan murmured, stroking his beard as he watched her step away. “Accept that, and you’ll find winning comes a lot easier.”

* * *

 

By the time Roan had made his way out into the makeshift arena of a parking lot, the crowd had thickened, and there was palpable horror and excitement in the air.

The sun beat down on the pavement, heat waves temporarily blurring the vision in any direction one may have glanced.

The crowd’s volume was a dull roar as Roan entered the ring like area, gaze flicking to either side.

Lexa had entered on the other side, to a great roar of approval from a majority of the audience.

Clarke took in the entire scene with great curiosity and fear as she shoved and pushed past everyone in her way, earning glares and looks of contempt as she spared no one.

On one end of the great schism was Bellamy Blake, hand in hand with Costia, beside Nia, who glanced upon everyone disdainfully.

Across the great divide was Anya, who’d stood with the mass of Grounders, arms folded, leaning ever so slightly against Raven Reyes, whose eyes were locked on Bellamy like a hawk eyed its prey before the fatal swoop.

Anya was there to make sure that wouldn’t happen.

Bellamy’s attention was clearly all on Roan, on his goal, as he idly held Costia like a trophy wife.

It was clear that she was only there to distract Lexa.

It was too bad, then, that Lexa didn’t even see her.

Lexa didn’t see anything, except the stunning blonde who’d just shouldered her way to her, stepping into the makeshift “arena” as she watched Lexa with a pained gaze.

Lexa’s mouth parted slightly in awe of Clarke, perhaps taking her in for the last time. Her hair was golden and her eyes were a deep blue, and Lexa was content to die with the image of Clarke’s full lips in her mind.

Then her eyes fell to Clarke’s chest, where the necklace she’d given her now dangled, reflecting of sunlight.

Lexa took in a breath.

Clarke had accepted.

There was so much she wanted to say, to tell Clarke…to show Clarke, with her lips, her hands, their gazes locking, panting and gasping for air.

But she still had a battle to fight.

Instead, throat dry and eyes threatening to mist, she murmured, “I’m…glad you came.”

Clarke offered her a sad smile, but there was pride seeping from behind her tonality. “Me too.” She murmured.

Clarke’s gaze was locked with Lexa’s.

Her Grounders had applied some incredibly badass warpaint to her eyes, almost like a mask, and the ends dripped down every so slightly.

Lexa’s emerald eyes were sparkling with a fire that could not be sated with words alone, and they glimmered especially bright under her war paint.

Clarke couldn’t help but think of how fitting “Commander Lexa” was for her.

She was graceful, beautiful, powerful, and threatening all at once. She wore a simple black outfit, with gloves that were cut off at the fingers.

Clarke was breathless just staring at her, and it seemed the feelings were mutual.

Lexa dipped her head and turned to Roan, boots crunching against the gravelly pavement, fists clenching at her side.

“Roan.” She glanced at him, words curling at the end of her full lips.

“Lexa.” Roan nodded once, short and curt, a sign of respect.

Clarke’s eyes widened as she watched with great horror.

If _Roan_ bowed, Lexa had to be good.

Clarke’s cerulean gaze took in Nia, on the far side of the clearing, who’d been standing boredly beside Bellamy, eyes locked on her disgrace of a son.

And then Clarke’s eyes found Costia, and she felt a rage boiling within her.

Not for herself, even though it had been Costia who put the bullet in her.

For Lexa.

For the way she’d shattered her heart, used her, and betrayed her.

Clarke felt rage consume her. She watched the Grounders and the Arkers form a wall like barrier around Lexa and Roan, as if to keep anyone else from interrupting the fight.

Clarke felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Raven and Anya sidling beside her, Raven giving her a small, anxious smile.

“She’s gonna be okay, Griff.” Raven murmured, and Clarke relished in the small squeeze Raven gave her.

Whether Raven was actually forgiving her or just feeling sorry for her in that moment, Clarke didn’t dare try to figure out.

It just felt good to have Raven back.

“They’re starting.” Anya murmured, eyes narrowing on Roan as the two got into a fighting stance.

“No weapons?” Clarke murmured in awe.

Anya shook her head. “They’re forbidden.”

“This is as street as it gets.” Raven muttered in her ear, hand moving down to squeeze Clarke’s.

And then Clarke’s heart stopped beating, time stopped, and everything was in incredibly slow motion.

Lexa turned to face Clarke one last time, as Roan lunged for her.

Clarke’s heart dropped into her stomach.

It was over before it started.

Except…it wasn’t.

Lexa seemed to sense that, and side stepped, send an elbow into Roan’s back with expert timing, sending him stumbling forward before her, to the crowd’s first uproar of cheering.

Roan stumbled right before Clarke, eyes locking with hers as he sucked in a sharp breath, turning to retaliate.

Clarke squeezed Raven’s hand, resisting the urge to throw herself into the mix.

She knew that would result in nothing but mockery for Lexa, and possibly death.

She had to trust that Lexa knew what she was doing. She was, at some point, in the military after all, wasn’t she? She knew how to fight.

And then the sparring began.

Like a close, intimate dance with the coming breeze, Lexa and Roan traded expert punches, their footwork impeccable as they ducked and dodged and retaliated, shuffling across the entirety of the space they had.

Lexa landed a solid punch on Roan’s jaw, almost smiling when he stumbled backwards.

Roan recovered quickly, legs sweeping Lexa’s as she came down on top of him, hands going for his neck.

Clarke remembered, then, that she was going for the kill.

Clarke stiffened as the two engaged in close-quarter combat, and she pitied Raven’s hand, which was likely getting all the blood cut off.

Roan knocked Lexa off with brute force, and Clarke winced when she heard Lexa hit the ground, Roan standing as he kicked her in the side once, twice, brutally.

Clarke knew that if Lexa hadn’t lifted herself a few inches like she had, her ribs would have been cracked. Instead, Lexa sprang up onto her feet in seconds, lunging at Roan like she hadn’t just suffered the blunt force of his boot.

Roan side stepped and wrapped his thick arm around Lexa’s neck, seemingly going for the chokehold.

Lexa sputtered out a cough, sending an elbow into Roan’s hard chest, then connecting her fist with his face as he stumbled back.

Lexa gasped for air, and Clarke could see red marks around her neck as she whipped around, eye taking in Roan and likely calculating her next move.

“Come on…” Clarke murmured, eyes wide, hating having to watch the abuse Lexa was both getting and receiving.

Roan, who’d just had the wind knocked out of him, smirked when he brandished a long looking dagger from his belt.

Nia grinned wickedly from the side as she saw the weapon, the steel glinting in the sunlight.

Clarke gasped, hands releasing Raven’s to shoot up to her mouth in shock.

“What the fuck!” Raven roared above the cheering of the crowd, clearly more excited than they were upset. “He can’t do that!”

Anya slipped her hand into Raven’s, silencing her as she glanced at Anya in shock. “Shh!” Anya murmured in Raven’s ear, Clarke effectively hearing because of their close proximity. “Look.”

Lexa’s leg kicked up and her hand slid into her boot, brandishing a substantial blade, a look of pure murder on her face as the crowd boomed in approval.

Bellamy muttered a single, “Fuck!” while Costia grimaced.

It was anyone’s game.

Clarke couldn’t help the cheer that escaped her lips when Lexa twirled her blade, taunting Roan to come at her.

Clarke had never seen such artful fighting before. It really was a dance. Both fighters, incredibly sweaty and exhausted, kept light on their boots as they danced around each other.

Roan struck first, a slash that Lexa parried with her short little dagger, leaving Clarke curious as to how the hell they were effectively sword-fighting with street weapons.

Clarke couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

It was almost as show of some sort for the two, as they spun like hurricanes of steel, striking and dodging and grunting with satisfaction or pain.

And then it was a flurry of slashes, cuts, and sideways jumps as Lexa avoided all of Roan’s attempts, managing to land a solid cut on his arm.

Roan chanced one glance down at his cut, and Lexa stepped forward, going straight for his chest.

Clarke felt her heart stop. Roan would die right there, in that spot, stabbed in the chest by Lexa’s expert precision.

Clarke, and Lexa, apparently, underestimated Roan Queen.

Roan side stepped and slashed with such force that Lexa’s dagger was knocked out of her hand, clattering to the floor several feet away.

Clarke’s breath hitched and the crowd roared their anger and approval all at once, deafening her further.

Roan was relentless as he moved to drive the blade, with incredible speed and force, through Lexa’s chest.

Lexa did the only thing she could.

She caught the blade with her gloved hands, teeth gritted as the sharp edges made short work of tearing through her flesh, her dark crimson bloods spilling in thick drops over the pavement.

Roan kicked out at Lexa’s chest in the middle of their entanglement, sending her falling back on the pavement with a hard lunge as Roan took off toward her, looking to finish it with a killing move.

Clarke swore that time froze, in that moment.

She heard Anya mutter, “God…No…”

Raven’s eyes widened as she covered her mouth.

Clarke was completely still, the sunlight reflecting off her necklace nearly blinding her as she leaned forward desperately, but Anya yanked her back, knowing she couldn’t intervene.

It was all so painfully slow in Clarke’s mind.

Roan sucked in a breath, puffing his chest out as his expert arm winded back, getting ready to hurl the blade into Lexa, the love of Clarke’s life.

Lexa was laying there, breath knocked out of her on the floor, palms bleeding crimson, In the same dried pool of blood from Clarke’s shooting.

How fate really did circle itself.

Lexa Woods was about to die. Her life was about to end.

 _Her Lexa_.

The Lexa she was so madly in love with that it pained her to even think about a moment where they couldn’t be together, the one she would kill for and die for.

Roan, with gritted teeth and a knitted brow, flicked his wrist forward, and then his bicep curled under the force he’d gathered to send the blade sinking into Lexa’s chest in its entirety.

Clarke couldn’t blink, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move.

It was all over.

But Lexa rolled.

The crowd was deafening.

She rolled to the side and the blade came clattering to the ground as she kicked out hard into Roan’s leg, sending him wincing to the side as she mustered the strength to launch herself into a backwards cartwheel, distancing herself from him considerably.

Clarke couldn’t help the shout of relief that came with her as Lexa flirted with death and avoided it so narrowly, back to her state of prowess in seconds.

If she’d been staring at anything but Lexa, she might have noticed Nia cussing silently to herself, for Bellamy watching, eyes peeled.

Or Costia’s silent little prayer.

But Lexa was everything and anything, in that moment, to Clarke.

And when Roan snatched up his blade from the floor, looking intent on destroying her, he lunged.

Clarke couldn’t feel her lungs with the way they burned from air, she kept holding it in.

How could breathe when Lexa was out there?

Lexa dodged his first swipe with ease, her body moving fluidly, blood barely dripping from her nose.

Again.

Roan lunged.

Again.

Lexa dodged with lightning speed.

And then she did the unthinkable. Lexa side stepped, yanking the blade from his grasp as her boot heel met his chest in a hard, unforgiving kick.

Roan stumbled backwards, and Lexa loomed over him, twirling the dagger in her hand like Clarke had seen her do a million times.

Clarke’s jaw dropped as she struggled to breathe, watching Lexa preside over Roan Queen’s last few moments.

Nia shouted from her position on the side, not too far away. “Get up! If you die, you die a coward!” She seethed, all eyes falling on her with great contempt, respect, and fear.

Roan wheezed up at Lexa, looking utterly defeated. “Just get it over with!” He spat, blood trickling from his mouth, staining the corners.

Lexa cleared her throat, her growl falling across the now silent audience. “Blood must have blood!”

And then she did it.

Lexa whipped around on her heel in the blink of an eye, arm retracting as she threw the blade.

Clarke’s eyes followed it as it whistled threw the air, burying itself in Nia’s chest as she gaped, falling backwards onto Bellamy and Costia, crimson surrounding the buried blade.

Gasps were heard, screams were heard all around.

Clarke’s was one of the loudest. Her eyes were wide, her limbs still.

Anya smirked, and Raven stopped breathing for a moment, in awe of Lexa’s prowess.

Lexa glanced down at Roan, who looked frozen, chest rising and falling rapidly, hair matted with sweat and dirt.

“Nia Queen is dead!” Lexa roared, earning applause from nearly everyone in attendance, even the corrupt police, and the Grounders who had seemed to be losing faith. “Roan, I give you Emerson’s territory, and what is left of his people, to merge with yours!”

The gasps of disbelief lit a fire in Lexa as she offered her hand out, helping Roan up, who slowly stood, expression indiscernible.

Bellamy held Nia from his lap, where she was motionless. “You fucking coward!” He called, rising.

Costia tried to tug him back, but he knocked her off, practically foaming at the mouth. “You murderer!” He called, and Lexa whipped around.

The crowd was made up of more of her supporters than his, particularly after her display.

Raven couldn’t help it. She tore into the makeshift arena, rage coursing like fire through her veins. “BELLAMY!” She roared, crying out when she made eye contact with him. “Come on and fight me! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll kill you for what you did to Finn!” She screamed, and everyone fell silent.

“Hey!” Anya growled in Raven’s ear, restraining her as Clarke stepped forward. “No! Not now!”

Lexa glanced around at the silent faces before her. “You’ve seen your fight!” She roared. “Now get out!”

The Grounders began to enforce her words as they started ushering out the other gangs, people shouting their congratulations to Lexa as uttered a few words to Roan, watching as the Arkers pulled Bellamy back to safety.

Clarke glanced at him, at his broken eyes, at his broken spirit.

Raven had really shaken him up. He allowed himself to be pushed back while Nia’s body was carried away as well in the chaos of the exit.

“Wait.” Clarke huffed, making long strides, disappearing into the crowd as it thickened.

“Where the hell is she going?” Anya growled, wrestling Raven back still.

Clarke slipped her hood on, cutting through rows of disorganized, glorified criminals, as she made her way across the clearing, knowing full well that Lexa’s watchful eyes were likely tracking her movement.

She stopped behind a head of blonde hair, exiting in a pool of Arkers, long behind Bellamy and Nia’s body.

Clarke felt her fists tighten and relax as she gently tapped the girl’s back. “Um, excuse me? Costia?”

The blonde whipped around at the mentioning of her name, blue eyes hardly settling into the shock they had when they recognized Clarke’s face before she was met with a faceful of Clarke’s fist, sending her plummeting to the ground.

Several Arkers turned around, but no one detained Clarke Griffin. Bellamy wasn’t there to order it.

Clarke decked Costia, listening in satisfaction as she cried out in pain, ignoring the throbbing sensation in her hand.

And then she kneeled down beside the blonde, crouching to murmur, “If you ever hurt Lexa again, you will pay with your life.”

And without waiting for a response, she turned and locked eyes with Lexa across the now cleared space, who’d watched her with alert, emerald eyes, mouth parted slightly in shock.

Clarke smiled at her ever so softly, turning to join the crowd as Lexa was surrounded by her Grounders, enveloped by them.

And yet, she never took her eyes off Clarke Griffin.

* * *

 

By the time Lexa had found Clarke, they had made the trip back to building, Clarke riding with Anya in an attempt to calm Raven down.

She had no idea where Lexa had disappeared off to. 

But of course, the Grounders came and left in their celebratory haze, and Clarke was left mostly alone, on her seat in Lexa’s office, knuckles bruised, patiently awaiting Lexa’s return.

For a moment, she considered that Lexa wouldn’t return.

That Lexa would want to celebrate with some other girl, that she would want to unwind and enjoy her victory.

But Clarke’s thoughts ended as soon as they arrived when Lexa pushed the door open almost an hour later, slipping in, wearing the same clothes she’d fought in, her hands in a makeshift bandage she’d likely whipped together on the spot.

Clarke shot out of her chair, turning to face Lexa.

Before Lexa could utter a word, Clarke had enveloped her into a hug.

Stunned, Lexa froze, slowly wrapping her arms around Clarke until her grip was tight, and the two stayed like that for minutes, Clarke swaying them back and forth ever so gently.

“You did it…” Clarke breathed into Lexa’s hair, tears in her eyes.

She clutched Lexa tightly, fearing that she might wake up from such a sweet, dreamlike outcome, and find Lexa missing, or worse...

Lexa squeezed her.

It was very real.

“I make good on my promises, Clarke.” Lexa murmured with a faint smile.

“Are you hurt?” Clarke breathed, seemingly returning back to her normal self. “You…my god, I didn’t think you would…that was brutal….”

“Just a few scratches.” Lexa muttered, and Clarke got a look at the small cut on her luscious lips.

“You were…incredible. I...I've never seen anything like it. You were so graceful...powerful....beautiful.” Clarke breathed.

Lexa blushed almost immediately, glancing away, humbled. “As were you.”

“What?” Clarke raised a brow.

“Roan told me you confronted him before the fight…” Lexa sighed, eyes taking in all of Clarke’s beauty.

Clarke nodded slowly.

Lexa took in a breath. "It's like you enjoy giving me heart attacks. Will there come a day when I don't fear your wrecklessness?"

Clarke smiled abashedly, amusedly.

“That, and what you did to Costia…” Lexa took Clarke's bruised fist, brushing her lips against them softly, as Clarke all but melted beneath her. "Thank you, Clarke."

Clarke blushed now, averting her gaze. "I...she...she had it coming." 

She couldn't find her voice while Lexa's lips were gracing her knuckles, as if they were mending every bruise with a soft flutter.

It was a simple, protective gesture. It was a wordless declaration of love.

“What did you say to her?” Lexa asked softly, arm tracing Clarke’s as she let her hand go reluctantly.

Clarke glanced at her hand, frowning at the way it was bandaged. Her concern was Lexa, nothing else. “Lexa…” She began softly. “We need to get you taken care of.”

Lexa leaned her head against Clarke’s shoulder for a moment, inhaling her scent. “I am fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Clarke replied breathlessly. “If we go to my apartment…I can get you-”

“No.” Lexa protested, looking up, eyes finding Clarke’s. “It’s not safe for you there anymore. Bellamy knows….”

“Oh…” Clarke looked down guiltily, and Lexa tilted her chin up, eyes piercing hers.

“What is it, Clarke?” Lexa pressed.

“I saw Bellamy before everything…” Clarke muttered.

“And…did he hurt you?” Lexa asked through clenched teeth, as if the prospect of Clarke getting hurt wounded her more than her actual wounds .

“No…I….I kissed him…” Clarke breathed, looking on the verge of tears. “I…I thought that…Maybe…I could save you but…”

Lexa’s eyes glimmered with the most intense adoration Clarke had ever seen. “Oh, Clarke…” Lexa whispered, shaking her head. “Not for me…” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Clarke’s. “I’m here now. You…got my note.” Lexa murmured as her eyes fell to Clarke’s necklace.

“Maybe it was good luck.” Clarke murmured with a smile.

When Lexa winced a little, Clarke glanced down at her hands, taking them in her own. “We…should really get these fixed.” Clarke sighed, distancing herself slightly, in order to move.

“At my home.” Lexa murmured quietly.

“What?” Clarke asked, eyes widening slightly.

“Come to my home.” Lexa pressed. “You can…fix it there.”

Clarke looked perplexed.

“And stay, with me.” Lexa murmured softly, almost shyly. “I can protect you, not that you need anyone to but…You’ll be safe.”

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding slowly.

The idea of being anywhere near Lexa, or her house, or her life…it thrilled Clarke.

“Okay.” She whispered, gently releasing Lexa’s hand. “Let’s go.”

The evening was still young for Lexa and Clarke as they left the building, unprepared for the messily beautiful evening ahead.

Today was a victory.

In self-discovery, in war, and in love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we're now approaching what I would call the final arc of the story. (The conflict is certainly not over). Once again, I might warn that this story does/will contain: Violence, Death, and *Sex*. That being said, I don't plan to follow the show's route from here, so no, stray bullets won't be a problem ;) 
> 
> (Next time is so Clexa-centric I SWEAR.... ;)
> 
> Thank you all for the kind comments and support on here and tumblr, kudos, and mentioning the story to others, I greatly appreciate it! It's been quite a ride, you've read the equivalent of a 300 page book, so please...pat yourself on the back ;) 
> 
> In need of some fake dating AU fluff? (Just updated!): http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439
> 
> Otherwise, I'll see you all on sunday- If I decide to keep the current schedule for the last set of chapters, and I really look forward to reading your comments!


	18. Love is Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke takes care of Lexa, and Lexa takes care of Clarke.

The ride home was filled with the most comfortable silence Clarke had ever shared with anyone in her life.

It was the kind of silence that spoke for itself, without having to cram a litany of meaningless words into the small space between the two.

It was the kind of silence Clarke could wrap herself in, forgetting her worries and obligations, her pains and her struggles.

It was the effect of Lexa Woods, of course.

Lexa had taken to driving, eyes settled on the road ahead of them, one hand on the wheel, the other gingerly placed over the stick shift.

Clarke had been gazing out the window, watching the dark night illuminated by the lights of the city, the capital still beating on at that hour in the evening.

Clarke felt almost as if she were intoxicated.

Almost as if she’d accepted that moscato from Lexa like she had on their first date.

She felt dizzy in the most beautiful way.

But this time, it was not the influence of drugs, or plotting, and lies.

This time it was love.

So tender, and demanding, and freeing all at once.

It was love, and Clarke was so pleasantly enraptured, entranced, consumed by her love for Lexa Woods.

It was only when Lexa let out a long sigh that Clarke was finally shaken from her dream-like state, eyes flicking to the beautiful woman behind the wheel.

“Hey, you okay?” Clarke murmured. “Want me to drive?”

Lexa was exhausted, in every sense of the word.

Clarke had seen her thrashed, and nearly destroyed.

She had seen Lexa rise, and conquer, and slay every obstacle in her path.

Clarke herself was emotionally and physically exhausted.

“I’m fine.” Lexa reassured her, glancing down at her poorly bandaged palms.

“You must be exhausted.” Clarke pressed.

“It’s only a little further up the road.” Lexa promised, knowing that Clarke was just as tired.

Clarke glanced down at Lexa’s hand, wrapped around the gearshift handle. She gently took it into her own, careful to avoid the cut, bringing it to her face so she could see the damage in the dim lighting.

Lexa glanced at her momentarily, smiling softly before glancing forward at the road. “I’ll be fine.” She promised.

Clarke smiled, pressing her lips to Lexa’s hand, right under the cut. She smiled wider when she heard Lexa’s breath hitch ever so softly. “I know.” She mumbled, holding Lexa’s hand in her own tenderly. “I want to take care of you.”

If Lexa’s eyes were any indication, she was desperately wrapped in her love for Clarke, forgetting how to breathe, to blink, to speak.

Before she could find it within her to reply, she’d realized that she’d already stopped the car, passing a black iron gate signifying the top of her driveway.

Clarke’s eyes widened a bit at the size of the expansive estate unrolling in the darkness before her. Trees dotted the edge of the driveway Lexa had just pulled up on, and Clarke’s eyes fell to the manor itself.

It was brilliant and opulent, imposing and looming over the rest of the area. It’s front steps were supported by great pillars, and Clarke had to think Lexa’s estate was worth more than her entire life would ever be.

She knew Lexa’s family was wealthy and renowned, Bellamy even went so far as to jest and call them “old money” at some point or another.

But this?

Clarke couldn’t form words.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” Lexa mumbled, reluctantly sliding her hand from Clarke’s grasp.

Clarke blinked once, eyes roaming the great expanse of land before her, eyes settling on the now distant gate, with a large “W” in the center in gilded styling.

She turned back to glance at the manor itself, noting that several lights were on. She raised a brow curiously. “Lonely?” She repeated.

Lexa shuffled slightly in her chair, bracing herself to throw open the car door and to suffer the cold bite of the evening winds. “It used to be full. Full of…life, laughter…I… My parents…” She shook her head, biting her lip.

Clarke could tell she didn’t want to discuss it, and after what Lexa had just been through, she wasn’t about to force anything.

“The lights are on.” Clarke nodded, watching as Lexa slid out of her seat, coming over to help Clarke like she always did.

Clarke blushed, rubbing her arms for heat as she quietly thanked Lexa, who shut the door and continued on with her towards the great wooden front double doors.

“This will only take a moment.” Lexa murmured from behind Clarke, gently nudging her forward as she pressed the great door open with a push of the handle.

The door creaked and groaned, and light poured down on Clarke from a great chandelier as she stepped into what was likely the main entrance, or foyer.

Clarke was in awe. The grandeur of it all, the extravagance, the beauty and power…It reminded Clarke a bit of Lexa’s office building.

Her family certainly had specific tastes.

Lexa shut the door behind her quietly, and before Clarke could say anything, she heard footsteps coming down from the great spiral staircase just a few steps before her.

Immediately, Clarke tensed, relaxing only when Lexa put a gentle hand on her shoulder, murmuring, “Relax.”

Clarke let go of most of her tension, blue gaze gearing up to see a woman descending down each step, somewhat hurriedly.

She came into view and Clarke took in her dark skin and fiery eyes, watching the way she searched Clarke predatorily.

Clarke then noticed, behind her, was a man following suit, bald, with a grim expression on his stoic features.

“Lexa.” The woman spoke up, tensing at the sight of Clarke. “You’re alright.”

Lexa nodded, keeping her hand on Clarke’s shoulder to calm her. “I am.”

The woman still looked as if she wanted to smite Clarke right there and then, so Lexa added, “At ease, Indra. She’s my…guest.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Ind…Indra?” She asked tentatively. “You’re Lexa’s head of security?”

Clarke had remembered Lincoln’s words, at his first introduction with her almost a year prior.

Indra sized Clarke up considerably before relenting with a nod. “I protect Lexa from any and all…outside threats.” She eyed Clarke when she said that.

The man spoke up, his head dipped. “Welcome back, Lexa. Should I have a bath drawn for you? You look exhausted.”

Lexa allowed a faint smile to ghost her lips. “No, thank you…” She turned to Clarke. “Clarke, this is Titus…Woods family advisor, and personal family friend.”

Clarke dipped her head slightly in greeting, feeling her cheeks burn slightly. She realized that she must have been Lexa’s first guest, maybe ever.

“Clarke will be staying with me…us… for…” Lexa glanced at her with some form of adoration in her gaze. “-As long as she’d like. Treat her as if you’d treat me.”

Both Indra and Titus nodded, and Lexa dismissed them both, bidding them a good evening.

Indra seemed especially relieved to see Lexa alive and well after the day’s events.

Clarke glanced at Lexa unsurely, but the slightly older woman tugged at her arm gently. “Come, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded slowly, but before she could speak, even utter a single word, Lexa had smiled a little to herself, adding “Don’t worry Clarke. They have no business with you and me…”

Clarke realized that the several stories separating them would be more than enough privacy. Her cheeks reddened at the thought, but she couldn’t control herself around Lexa Woods any longer.

It was the most intimate, necessary, burning need she’d ever felt in her life.

Clarke followed Lexa past the immense spirals of the stairs, taking in the framed pictures on the dimly lit walls of the hallways.

She stopped when she saw a picture of a very young Lexa nearly seven years prior, presumably in her senior year of high school.

Lexa’s smile was the most beautiful thing Clarke had ever witnessed in her life. It made her heart ache, it made her want to double over and cry, because she’d seen how much Lexa had suffered through, and how little of it was actually her choice.

The gilded frame contained a picture of Lexa, smiling for the camera, her hair elegantly and casually flipped over her shoulders, her bright, youthful green eyes shining.

Clarke hadn’t realized that she’d audibly gasped. Not until Lexa, who’d disappeared into her own master bedroom at the end of the hall, came out in a blur of worry, clothes in her hands.

Clarke allowed her fingers to trace the edges of the sacred image, as if she feared she’d destroy it with any more contact.

“Clarke?” Lexa murmured questioningly, and Clarke glanced up into Lexa’s gaze.

Clarke felt awful when she saw how truly exhausted Lexa looked, eyelids slightly heavy, posture not as rigid as normal, breathing shallower than her usual.

“Sorry, I…” Clarke began in a murmur. “I just…you’re so beautiful. Then and now. God, how old were you?”

Lexa’s features broke into an abashed smile. “Maybe…eighteen, I suppose.”

Clarke nodded, taking in young Lexa’s smile, the twinkle in her eyes. “You were so…happy, so light….”

Lexa saw that Clarke was clearly beginning to get emotional. “Clarke?” She tried once more. “Are you alright?”

Clarke sighed with a great heave of her shoulders. “I…I’m sorry, I guess. I wish you could be like this now…that I could take away your pain, because I-”

Lexa’s response was instant. “You do, Clarke.”

Clarke froze, eyes tentatively rising to meet Lexa’s.

“You do.” Lexa repeated, taking a step forward. “I have not felt that…happy, and alive…” She glanced at the picture. “Not in years. Even before my parents’ passing. But you? Clarke, you make me feel that, and a thousand times more. You make me happy, Clarke Griffin.” Lexa murmured, stepping forward to take Clarke’s hand into hers.

Clarke felt her heart thump rapidly in her chest, her breathing shallow and desperate.

Lexa Woods was everything.

Her happiness, her smile, it meant everything to Clarke.

Clarke wasn’t sure when Lexa became her world.

She wasn’t sure how.

But she knew it to be true.

Her thoughts were halted by Lexa’s tired blinking, biting her lip to keep from yawning.

“Hey…” Clarke murmured. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

Lexa motioned to the door on the right. “Clarke, the guest room is there. Inside you should find anything you need, and…I hope you don’t mind wearing my clothes until I can send Gustus to retrieve your belongings first thing tomorrow.”

Clarke took the small bundle of clothes into her arms, nodding. “And you?”

Lexa glanced down. “I’ll change and…clean up. I will check in with you as soon as possible.”

Clarke nodded affirmatively once more. “Alright. I’m still bandaging that correctly.” She muttered.

Lexa smiled, tired eyes twinkling still, just like in her old picture.

It sent thrills through Clarke, knowing that she had some hand in that.

* * *

 

Clarke had tried to ward off any overly-invasive thoughts of Lexa during, what was supposed to be, her most peaceful shower.

The steaming hot water streamed out, and Clarke had forgotten to close the door, so steam poured and billowed into the expansive, lavish guest bedroom.

By the time Clarke had gotten out, exhaustion had won over her senses, and she’d realized that the need to sleep trumped any other…bodily needs she might have entertained before.

She slipped out of the steamy bathroom with a sigh, approaching the clothes Lexa had laid out for her.

She smiled faintly as she saw that Lexa, clearly unsure, left many options available to Clarke.

She chuckled quietly to herself. For such a demanding, intensive boss, she was the most caring, affectionate person Clarke had ever met.

Clarke opted for the simplest choice: A pair of boy-shorts (that she totally didn’t imagine on Lexa) and a small shirt that bore, in bold white lettering: USMC and the United States’ Marine Corps logo across the chest.

Clarke couldn’t help the proud smile on the edge of her lips as she thought of her “Commander.”

She stiffened when she heard a few knocks on the door and called out. “Come in!”

The wooden bedroom door was tentatively pushed open by Lexa, who still looked unsure if Clarke was decent.

When she stepped in, both she and Clarke froze, quite literally gaping at each other.

Lexa was dressed in a thin, strapped black dress with a slit in the side that revealed the legs of a goddess. Her hair was barely damp, parted over to her right, revealing her tired face and full lips, parted in awe at Clarke.

“H….Hi…” Clarke stuttered out, eyeing the fresh bandages and ointment in Lexa’s grasp.

“Clarke.” Lexa spoke softly, stepping forward. “Did you…find everything you were looking for?”

Clarke nodded and swallowed audibly, murmuring a simple, “Yes.”

Lexa knew she was talking about a lot more than just clothing.

“That shirt….” Lexa mumbled as she sat on the edge of Clarke’s bed, handing the materials over to the skilled doctor. “It suits you.”

Clarke immediately blushed, glancing away. “Thank you for letting me wear it.”

Lexa nodded gently in response, and Clarke took her hand in her own, eyeing the cuts with a little concern.

“If I died today, I-” Lexa’s sentence was cut off.

“Don’t.” Clarke murmured, shaking her head.

Lexa was silenced with a great huff.

“Do you ever talk about anything other than your death?” Clarke mumbled with the hint of a smile, and Lexa broke into one, subconsciously leaning into Clarke’s touch.

“You need to take the next few days easy.” Clarke murmured.

Lexa cocked a brow. “As in?”

“As in not going to work.” Clarke mumbled, deftly re-bandaging the wound with precision.

“Are you saying this as my doctor? Or my friend?” Lexa murmured, feeling her breath catch in her throat at how close Clarke was.

“Both. Neither.” Clarke shook her head.

Lexa raised her brow again, an amused smile on her lips as she recited words her father had told her ages ago. “War should be the only study of a prince. He should consider peace only as a breathing-time, which gives him leisure to contrive, and furnishes as ability to execute, military plans.”

Clarke’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “Niccolo Machiavelli? Really?”

Lexa nodded.

Clarke let out a husky laugh that sent Lexa over the edge. “Listen, I get you want to get back to work, but…. We’re both tired. You’re exhausted. I don’t want you pushing yourself like this. ”

Lexa hummed quietly in response, tired eyes never leaving Clarke’s as she worked to cover her wounds.

“You started out fixing me, you know.” Lexa spoke out after a moment of silence.

Clarke’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Lexa? How tired are you?”

Lexa let out a deep chuckle that made Clarke swoon internally. “I..I mean, the first days I hired you. You were inspecting my cuts…”

Clarke nodded in realization. “Yeah…I was.”

Lexa smiled as she went on. “But you didn’t stop there, Clarke. You healed a lot more than what’s on the surface.”

Clarke felt a familiar warm tingle consume her body as she listened to Lexa’s words, eyeing the hand she’d just bandaged with great care. “I didn’t heal you. You weren’t broken.”

Lexa just took her hand, placing a soft kiss against it, feeling a thrill at watching Clarke’s breath hitch.

There was so much that needed to be said, so much to share, from Lexa’s very soul.

But Clarke could see the exhaustion shaking Lexa’s body, she could see Lexa’s inability to keep her eyes open much longer.

“Go.” Clarke murmured, glancing into Lexa’s eyes. “We can talk tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Lexa murmured in hardly a whisper, nodding as she rose, the light framing her face like the angel Clarke thought her to be.

Lexa turned around as she reached the door handle, the faintest of smiles on her lips. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

Clarke smiled at the familiar scenario she’d heard before, with the same woman she’d loved, over and over again. “ _Reshop, Heda_.” She responded in kind.

“I’ll be down the hall if you need anything at all, Clarke.” Lexa’s words were the sincere whispers that carried her to sleep.

* * *

 

_Lexa’s blood was everywhere._

_It stained Clarke’s shaking hands as she tried desperately to press Lexa’s wound, to keep it from bleeding any more onto the already soaking carpet of Clarke’s apartment living room._

_“Clarke…” Lexa choked out, thin line of blood dribbling down the corner of her soft lips, body limp in Clarke’s hands._

_“No, stay with me, Heda.” Clarke muttered frantically, trying her best with her slowly closing window of opportunity. “I can fix you, just-”_

_“Clarke.” Lexa croaked once more, hand reaching out to grasp Clarke’s in a final, failed attempt at reconnecting with her love. “You can’t.”_

_Clarke’s tears erupted freely as she choked back a sob, shaking her head._

_“The next commander, Anya….” Lexa rasped. “She’ll protect you, your people. They’ll…be….safe.”_

_“I don’t want the next commander!” Clarke growled in anger, in pain and torment, in frustration and denial. “I want you.” The last part was a whisper as she buried her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck, the crimson blood enveloping her world as Lexa took her last breath._

_“No.” Clarke shook her head, vein in her neck throbbing. “No! Lexa, I just got you back! Lexa, please…” She whimpered. “Please, don’t leave me…”_

_Bellamy._

_Bellamy Blake murdered Lexa Woods._

_He’d shot her right there, in the apartment that served as the location of so many milestones in Clarke and Lexa’s relationship._

_She whipped around, eyes narrowing when she saw that he was gone, but the gun was still there, laying on the floor, smoking still._

_Clarke eyed Lexa, who’d stilled, breathing stopped completely, eyes glazed over peacefully._

_“No!” Clarke cried out, sobbing heavily. “Lexa!”_

_She felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back from the limp body of the love of her life._

_Clarke lashed back angrily, shaking her head. “I can’t leave her! I can’t!”_

_Clarke felt the soft kiss of death pressed against her forehead and her thrashing stopped. She stilled._

_Lexa’s voice, barely a whisper in the wind, murmured, “I’m here.”_

_Clarke shook with her grief. Lexa would never say those words to her again. Lexa would never kiss her, hold her, give her one of those wry little smiles…_

_This was no reality of hers._

* * *

 

“Clarke.” Lexa’s eyes glistened with worry as she shook the blonde from her nightmare, having heard her cries from her own room. She glanced at the clock. Three in the morning.

“I…can’t…” Clarke’s sobs made Lexa’s heart ache, and she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Clarke.” She murmured gently into the girl’s ear. “I’m here.”

Clarke shot up, hands reaching out into the dark nothingness before her, eyes flying open to meet Lexa’s virid gaze of concern.

“You…” Clarke breathed, grasping the front of Lexa’s gown absently. “You’re here…”

“I am.” Lexa murmured, eyeing Clarke’s tears with great concern. “I heard you.”

Clarke blushed, and was grateful that Lexa couldn’t see it under the dim lighting of the guest room. “I’m so sorry…”

Lexa looked better with a few hours of sleep under her belt. She offered Clarke a sad smile. “I have them too.”

Clarke blinked the tears away, unflinching when Lexa brushed them away with her thumb, still leaning over Clarke.

“Lexa?” Clarke asked, voice hardly a whisper.

“Hmm?” Lexa hummed gently, stroking Clarke’s back soothingly.

“Don’t…leave me.” Clarke breathed, pressing her head forward into the crook of Lexa’s neck.

She felt Lexa frown against her hair, taking a deep breath. “I wouldn’t.” Lexa reminded, breathing slow and steady.

She leaned back slightly and Clarke glanced up into her gaze.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Lexa asked gently, standing straight once more.

Clarke sniffled. “I…don’t want to keep you up.” Clarke mumbled, standing, throwing the covers off herself with decided haste. She reached for her jacket, which hung on the back of the armchair in the corner of the dimly lit room.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “Clarke?” She asked knowingly. “Where are you going?”

Clarke sighed. “Home…I’ve kept you up, long enough.”

Lexa could tell by the hints of her tone that she was embarrassed.

Clarke slipped into her shoes, brushing past Lexa as she stepped into the hallway.

Lexa bit her lip, catching her wrist in the middle of the hallway. “You’re not keeping me up, Clarke.” She promised. “I…I want you to stay. To tell me about it.”

Clarke slid back against the wall, head in her hands as she sat at the base of the hallway floor, crumbling before Lexa.

Lexa frowned, sliding back beside her.

“What happened, Clarke?” Lexa asked gently, Clarke leaning against her slightly, taking her weight and guilty conscience far away.

“You died.” Clarke responded lowly, blinking back tears. “God, it was so…so…real.”

Lexa looked a bit stunned, but schooled her reactions quickly, slipping her hand behind Clarke’s back to rub small circles there in a comforting motion.

“I’m here, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, surprised when Clarke turned towards her, tears slowly pooling in her cerulean eyes, like the depths of a tempest tossed ocean.

“Look at me…” Clarke smiled through her tears, shaking her head. “I mean…A year ago, I didn’t even know you and now…this…” She shook her head. “You changed everything.”

Lexa nodded slowly, intent on hearing every word spill from her love’s lips, carefully.

“I was just a kid.” Clarke sighed, leaning into Lexa’s touch. “My mom used to come here and visit my dad a lot, and I’d get to see Bellamy…” She shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “And I used to think, for a moment, that…Life would stop. You know? My parents’ divorce, my father’s hearings…I could escape from it all.”

Lexa nodded in understanding. “So…when you saw the chance to stay here, with Bellamy…you took it.”

Clarke nodded. “I left my mom the first time. Ran all the way to Bellamy’s, and got lost along the way. But…I kept at it. I made him hide me at his house that night, even away from his parents…but, I think…I think my mom knew after all.” Clarke chuckled softly, shaking her head at her own naivety. “But…I stayed. And I guess…my mom has been supporting me all along.”

Lexa hummed in response, still rubbing Clarke’s back. “Where were you from, originally?”

Clarke blinked once, as if remembering something distant and irrelevant. “New York.” She admitted. “Where you found my mother.”

Lexa leaned Clarke’s head against her shoulder, wrapping a gentle arm around Clarke.

Clarke forgot just how young they both were, but moments like these…they reminded her.

“You?” Clarke asked. “D.C? Born and raised?”

Lexa shook her head, and surprised Clarke. “I actually…My mother didn’t want me to fall into my father’s line of work.”

“You mean the gang?” Clarke prodded quietly.

“Yes.” Lexa responded softly. “She took me to live with her in Los Angeles when I was very young, but…Then my father got sick, so we returned. I ended up growing up here and assuming his duties quite early on.”

Clarke’s heart ached for the woman beside her. “So…LA, huh? Never been.”

Lexa smiled against her shoulder. “It is…different. I have fond memories there.”

Clarke sighed, taking in the rare moment of silence, reveling in all she’d learned about the single most important figure in her life. Clarke writhed out of her grip, rising to her feet as she turned around, offering Lexa her hand.

“You’re exhausted.” Clarke murmured, eyes tracing Lexa’s gaze apologetically. “Get to sleep.”

Lexa took it and stood quizzically, worried that Clarke was going to try to disappear into the night.  

Instead, Clarke turned to her, eyes alight with adoration and a twinkle Lexa hadn’t recognized before. “We’re broken, huh?” She murmured, after a moment.

Lexa thought for a moment before sighing, “We’re surviving.”

“Well…” Clarke offered her a smile, leaning forward. “Maybe life is about more than just surviving…”

Lexa’s breath hitched, and she watched Clarke with widened eyes. The words rang true in her ears as she felt her heart skip a beat.

Clarke was so beautiful, her clean blonde hair spilling over her shoulder in picturesque form.

“My dream…it was about you.” Clarke murmured. Her voice sounded like she was at the beginning of a great declaration, or revelation, some moment of eminent truth.

Lexa offered her a wry smile, the light from the moon illuminating her face through the high glass window before them. “You dream about me. I’m flattered, Clarke.” Her tone was gentle, teasing, to distract Clarke from the pain she so obviously was enduring.

Clarke glanced up into her eyes, small trace of a smile on her face. “All the time.”

The words stunned Lexa, as she hadn’t been expecting any response of the sort.

Lexa blinked. “Oh…”

“I think about you, I dream about you all the time…” Clarke breathed, turning to face Lexa completely. “Lexa, you…” Clarke trailed off, watching Lexa’s tired eyes widen, her pillowy lips part in awe. Hell, she could even hear her heart thumping against her chest. “You…you’re my world, Lexa. I…don’t even know how, or why, but…I’m in love with you.” Clarke admitted breathlessly, enjoying the release of the tension but dreading the rejection she felt was ahead. “I love you, Lexa.”

Lexa froze, and Clarke could hear her heart. “Clarke, I…” Lexa took in a sharp breath. “I…I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say it.” Lexa admitted.

Lexa Woods opened up for the first time in years.

Lexa Woods poured her heart out for Clarke Griffin.

Clarke gasped slightly, breath hitching when Lexa cupped her cheeks, murmuring, “Clarke, I love you so much. I’ve loved you from the moment you came into my world, and…I don’t know…what I’d do without you…”

Clarke’s eyes widened as tears threatened to spill again. She leaned forward, shakily, tentatively.

This was the kiss of her life, of her dreams, everything she’d wanted ever since she’d seen Lexa.

There was no anger, jealousy, or looming threat of death.

Just Clarke, and Lexa, and their inexplicable, undying love for one another.

Cerulean eyes meet emerald before they both closed, Clarke initiating the softest of kisses.

She pushed Lexa back against the dark hallway wall gently, lips brushing against her bottom lip, surprised when Lexa let out a soft moan.

“You have…” Clarke pressed another kiss to her lips. “No idea how…” Another kiss. “Long I’ve wanted…” Another kiss, this time, accompanied by a whine when Lexa softly bit her lip. “To do this.”

Lexa breathed heavily, leaning back slightly, instead pressing her forehead to Clarke’s. “I do.” She promised breathily, smiling against Clarke’s lips. “I love you, Clarke Griffin.” She murmured, going back into the soft embrace of Clarke’s lips, her hands snaking around Clarke’s waist as she pressed their bodies together.

Clarke whined softly at her embrace, taking a breath when they parted, leaning against Lexa’s shoulder. “It sounds really good to hear you say that.”

Lexa grinned, placing a kiss on her head. “I love you.” She repeated, smile only growing when Clarke let out a light laugh, shaking softly in her arms, then glancing up at her.

Lexa sighed deeply, savoring the intense joy of the moment, willing the rest of the world away. All her troubles, her worries, her enemies and goals…nothing mattered.

Everything was Clarke.

Who loved her.

Life was beautiful.

Everyone had always told Lexa that love was blindness, weakness. That it crippled her, and it thwarted her abilities to make the right decisions.

But this?

This wasn’t blindness. It was strength. It was otherworldly bliss. It was knowing that she loved Clarke, and Clarke loved her, and it was eternally divine and beautiful and gratifying.

“You alright?” Clarke asked, pressing a timid kiss to Lexa’s jaw. “You must be exhausted.”

Lexa glanced down at her, arms still holding Clarke as if she would fade away if she let her go. She blushed at the flutter of Clarke’s lips against her jaw. She knew it wasn’t in her to stay awake any more.

And yet, she couldn’t find it within herself to distance herself from Clarke.

“We can go to bed.” Clarke murmured gently. “I’ll still be here tomorrow, I…I promise.”

Lexa smiled softly at Clarke, stepping back but tugging at her wrist. “Come on.” She guided Clarke back towards her bedroom.

Clarke’s breath hitched. “Lexa…are…are you sure?”

Lexa turned to offer Clarke a wry smile. “Of course I’m sure…I love you.” She threw in, watching the way Clarke broke out into a giddy grin.

Clarke stepped into Lexa’s room and froze. The great high ceilings were met with large, rustic looking wooden bookshelves, brimming with old and newer books. The master bed itself was a marvel, high wooden posts standing proudly, soft sheets adorning the massive bed.

Candles, unlit, surrounded the various surfaces.

Clarke smiled to herself when she thought of the candles lit, casting a soft orange glow around the room, and Lexa, tugging her into the room after a long day of work, pressing those soft butterfly kisses to her neck, and then-

“Clarke.” Lexa breathed, waving a hand in front of her. “You alright?”

Clarke blinked, swallowing audibly. “Yeah…I uh….yeah. Just thinking.”

Lexa nodded, blinking tiredly as she sat on the edge of the bed, cutely pouting when Clarke froze. “It’s cold, Clarke. Come.” She patted the side of the bed.

Lexa Woods was a gangster. She’d murdered someone earlier. She was a ruthless pragmatist, a CEO of a major company.

But now, she was just Lexa Woods.

She was vulnerable, soft and open.

She was almost the same girl from the picture Clarke had seen earlier.

She now wore that same smile. She was almost brimming with the same happiness.

Clarke felt something warm stir within her.

She was so, madly, painfully in love with her.

Clarke slowly slipped in beside Lexa, drawing the sheets and blanket over herself, taking a deep breath.

“You’re cold?” Lexa murmured when she heard Clarke sigh in relief.

“Freezing.” Clarke admitted, breath catching in her throat when she felt Lexa’s body pressed against hers, her arms protectively encircling Clarke, her nose pressed to the back of Clarke’s neck, where she placed a gentle kiss.

Immediately, Clarke found herself warming up to the sensation of Lexa Woods wrapped around her, their legs entangling beneath the layers of cloud-like sheets.

“Better?” Lexa asked tentatively, and Clarke had to admire how sweet and thoughtful she was, how she always wanted Clarke’s needs over her own.

Chivalry certainly wasn’t dead with Lexa Woods around.

Clarke wanted to explore so much more of their relationship, now that they’d opened the window of love, and adoration.

But she knew how tired Lexa was.

She knew she didn’t have it in herself to do Lexa any justice.

She knew all of that could wait, if she had the honor and privilege of falling asleep in Lexa’s arms for the rest of her nights.

“You can relax, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, gently stroking her arm from beneath the sheets. “I’m here.”

Clarke let out a breath she’d forgotten to let out, nestling herself further into Lexa’s arms.

“Hey Clarke?” Lexa murmured hazily, right by Clarke’s ear.

“Lexa?” Clarke answered softly, eyes closing slowly.

“I love you.” She murmured and Clarke could hear the satisfied smile in her tone as she managed a mumble of a reply, eyes shutting to take her into the best sleep of her life.

* * *

 

The chirping of the birds outside, on Lexa’s expansive balcony, did nothing to wake Clarke from her deeply satisfying slumber.

She only realized she was half awake when she felt her head on top of something, rising and falling slowly.

It hadn’t occurred to her, in her sleep-induced fog, that she’d turned to rest her head on Lexa’s chest, until she felt her hand flat atop Lexa’s abs, and her breathing nearly stopped altogether.

She also hadn’t realized that she’d been tracing tantalizing patterns across Lexa’s flattened abs with her finger tips, swirling about in her sleepy haze.

Lexa shuffled against her slightly, and Clarke glanced up at her, noting how she looked when she slept. She was so peaceful, so pure and angelic, and Clarke wanted nothing more than to reach up and kiss her luscious lips.

But she refrained.

She had to removed herself quietly, else she’d-

Too late. Clarke shifted and her knee pressed straight between the two of Lexa’s legs, causing Lexa to blink her eyes open in slight surprise. “Good morning, Clarke.”

Oh, god.

Her voice was so husky, so raw in the morning.

Clarke practically melted on the spot.

“So…sorry.” Clarke mumbled, going to move her leg from Lexa’s core.

Instead, Lexa smirked at Clarke’s jumpy apology, turning to top Clarke with a decidedly predatory gaze, every wink of exhaustion gone.

The warm sunlight of the morning filled the room through the curtains, bathing both women in a holy golden glow as they explored each other.

Lexa put her arms down on either side of Clarke, effectively trapping her, leaning down to brush her lips against Clarke’s. “Sorry?” She teased Clarke for her prior statement, smirking at the way Clarke moaned involuntarily.

“You’re forward.” Clarke mumbled against her lips, though it was hardly a complaint. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s neck as she allowed Lexa to begin devouring her jaw and neck with kisses, burying her hands into Lexa’s locks of long brunette hair.

“I just get…” Lexa mumbled, savoring the taste of Clarke’s lips, fluttering her way down to Clarke’s neck, sucking gently. “-What I want.”

“Oh god, Lexa.” Clarke mumbled numbly into her hair, almost embarrassed at the way her body arched up into Lexa’s touch, every second of her lips on Clarke’s hot, burning skin. “I want…I want…”

“What do you want, Clarke?” Lexa murmured with a hint of confidence to her tone, coming back up to tease Clarke with a bite. “Hmm? Ask me for it, Clarke.” The way she spoke, the way she pronounced Clarke’s name so smoothly and sharply all at once…It gave Clarke chills.

“I want you to-” Clarke’s moan never finished, as it was interrupted by an abrupt knock on Lexa’s closed bedroom door.

Clarke stilled beneath Lexa, tensing, while Lexa threw the angriest glare Clarke had ever seen towards the intruder.

“Heda.” Titus’ baritone rang from the other side of the door. “Heda?”

“What?!” Lexa demanded, still hovering over Clarke.

Clarke clasped Lexa’s hand, entwining their fingers. She quietly brought Lexa’s hand to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Lexa’s hand, calming her.

Lexa gave her a loving smile before leaning back on her knees, running a hand through her luxurious mane.

“Your meeting with Nyko and Indra is starting in half an hour.” Titus’ voice boomed from the other side of the door. “I’m assuming you’ve slept in…I’m having breakfast made now.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed and she let out a string of profanities in English, French, and then trigedasleng, causing Clarke’s eyes to widen. “Yes, fine, I’m coming. Thank you, Titus.” There was a sharp edge to her tone, and Clarke knew that they’d have to wait.

Lexa, on the other hand, looked ready to combust.

“Hey.” Clarke leaned forward, cupping Lexa’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be here.”

Lexa frowned, glancing down at Clarke wantingly. “I…apologize. I have to shower and get dressed.”

Clarke smiled softly as she took Lexa’s lips into her own, caressing them ever so gently. “Don’t be sorry. I know you’re my boss.”

Lexa shook her head, against Clarke’s lips. “I’m not.” She replied, hands sliding down Clarke’s back teasingly. “Clarke…” she pressed another kiss to her lips. “You’re not my friend, or…my employee…or…anything like that.”

Clarke hummed in curiosity, not wanting to break away from the sweet taste of Lexa’s lips. “Then what am I?” She mumbled.

“My entire world.” Lexa responded softly.

Clarke gaped at her. “Lexa, I… I…”

Lexa nodded. “No, Clarke…you make me better. You’re the reason why I bother…” She motioned to the door, where Titus had been. “-with any of this. You make everything worth it. And I love you so…” she pressed a kiss to Clarke’s temple. “So much.”

Clarke felt warmth spread within her at Lexa’s words. “I love you too.” She mumbled into the kisses, moaning quietly in protest when Lexa detached.

“I’ll be quick.” Lexa promised with a smile.

“Don’t worry.” Clarke grinned, leaning back, “We have the rest of our lives now, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter, it's been quite a hectic week for me. Think of the next chapter as the part two to this one. 
> 
> Enjoy the calm...while it lasts...haha ;) (no I'm not following canon from here you can all relax...what you *think* is going to happen- it's not. )
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and leaving such kind kudos/comments. I hope to read them and get around to answering them all!  
> I'm at effortlessly-opulent on Tumblr if you've got worries, burning questions, or wanna say hi! 
> 
> In need of a fake dating AU (updated Wednesdays?): http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439
> 
> Hopefully I'll see you on wednesday! (if not- it's due to my hectic schedule, and I apologize profusely for the delays!)


	19. The Earth and the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa experience each other in a whole new light.

Clarke had never felt so light in her life. Never. Not when she was a child, dragged back and forth by her parents on business. Certainly not when she was a teenager, growing up far away from home with the Blakes. And there wasn’t a chance in hell she would ever feel anything but the crushing weight of stress in medical school.

But now?

The world, with all its flaws and dangers, was perfect, and vibrant. It was colorful, warm and welcoming, and Clarke felt every emotion course through her at ten times the intensity she normally would have felt.

And it was all because of Lexa Woods.

She couldn’t get over herself. Her mind was like a goddamned broken record, replaying a litany of the same thoughts, over and over again.

She was in love with Lexa.

Lexa loved her.

They were together.

She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Months ago, she would’ve scoffed at the idea. Weeks ago, and she would have ached for it, killed for it.

And now she had it.

Clarke didn’t know what to do with herself anymore, away from Lexa. It was like her main functionality had disappeared with the cool breeze that was Lexa’s affections.

They had both split up to take showers, knowing full well that nothing could possibly be accomplished in each other’s presence.

Lexa had just said she had to meet with Nyko and Indra for a meeting somewhere downstairs, and then she was Clarke’s for the day.

Clarke’s.

Okay, so Clarke had a few responsibilities to take care of. Like checking in with her friends, with Raven especially, who’d been left in Anya’s capable hands. And of course, texting her mother, making sure she was still alright.

But Clarke couldn’t focus anymore. Last night had been like a dream to her. Lexa’s toned arms, wrapped around her. Their soft kisses in the morning glow.

It was as if Clarke’s life was finally falling into place, and she actually enjoyed it, for once.

Clarke opted for a shower, still feeling somewhat dirty, though she’d showered the night before. She checked her wound as well, delicately removing the bandage to show a near full recovery, minus the now permanent scar that was left across her abdomen.

She was a bit nervous about Lexa seeing that.

Hell, she was nervous about Lexa seeing her in any way, but god, she wanted it.

Clarke had showered quickly, hoping to catch Lexa downstairs for breakfast so she wouldn’t have to eat alone, though she knew she was the reason why Lexa was late to her meeting in the first place.

She came out of the bathroom in the guest room, surprised to find nearly her whole wardrobe folded neatly on her bed.

Clarke smiled to herself. Lexa had promised she’d send Gustus to her apartment first thing that morning to pick up Clarke’s own clothes. She was glad he was safe and it went off without a hitch.

She opted for a simple green tank top and jeans, hoping Lexa wasn’t too formal around her own house. If it could even be called that. Clarke was just aching to see the history behind the manor, the history behind the woman she loved. Lexa was like reading a book that gave away only a little information on each page, and Clarke was eager for more, to read into the words and letters that constructed Lexa’s story, that gave her character.

Clarke had barely dried her hair, letting it fall damp behind her shoulders as she stepped down into the hallway, hoping to find Lexa down stairs, and hopefully not in the meeting already.

Clarke’s boots barely hit the floor before she collided into a white blur, stumbling backwards before familiar hands caught her, steadying her.

She glanced up, chancing a grin at the love of her life.

Lexa was smiling amusedly at her, her hair spilling over her part gloriously, her white button up putting Clarke to shame.

“Hi.” Clarke breathed, falling in love all over again, her eyes locking with Lexa’s emerald gaze.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s response was just as breathy as she held the railing of the top of the stairs they were about to descend.

“I was hoping to catch you before breakfast but…looks like you caught me.” Clarke began with a smile, tugging Lexa forward by her shirt as Lexa stepped forward willingly, allowing Clarke to push her against the same hallway wall that they’d confessed their love for each other against.

“Always.” Lexa murmured with a smile, watching the way Clarke pinned her there gently, leaning forward to capture her lips in a desperate kiss, want searing Lexa’s lips.

Lexa moaned into mouth, hands still pressed back against the wall as Clarke took control, sliding her tongue against Lexa’s lips skillfully.

“You know…” Clarke murmured breathlessly against Lexa’s lips. “I missed you in the shower.” She smirked against Lexa’s lips when she felt her boss stiffen against her. “I had to pass the time without you.” She pouted, taking Lexa’s hands, sliding them over her taut abs.

Lexa sucked in a breath, biting her lip to keep from uttering something ungodly, just imagining Clarke in the shower. She felt chills under her clothing. “Clarke…” Her voice was warning, softly. “Just…an hour. Maybe two.” She begged, though her voice sounded regretful. “I need to…to focus.” Lexa swallowed slowly.

Clarke smiled teasingly, leaning forward to kiss Lexa’s lips. “I know; I know…I shouldn’t be distracting you like this. But I mean…we have months of work to catch up on.” She winked, smiling in pleasure when Lexa pressed a kiss to her neck.

“Two hours. Tops.” Lexa mumbled. “The house, the library, the yard…everything is yours.” Another kiss. “Go wherever you please. Do whatever you want.”

Clarke’s cheeks reddened at the proposition, her groans of pleasure eliciting impatience from Lexa. “But are _you_ mine?” She asked tantalizingly.

“Yes.” Lexa mumbled against her lips, kissing them one last time before she parted. “Always.”

Clarke smiled when Lexa laced her hand in hers, guiding her down the stairs and around the main entrance, where heavenly smells radiated from the kitchen.

Lexa had stepped towards the counter, grabbing a mug of coffee, left out for her on the counter.

“Who did all this?” Clarke asked, eyes wide, taking in the assortment of fruits and several bagels left out on the counter beside Lexa’s coffee.

Lexa looked impressed. “Indra, I think.”

Clarke furrowed her brow. “Indra? Isn’t she one of your…”

“Yes.”

“So she doesn’t usually cook for you…”

“No, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was amused. “I do things myself.”

“What are you meeting about today?” Clarke asked, popping a berry into her mouth as she leaned against the counter beside Lexa, unable to tear her eyes away from her.

“What to do next. Bellamy is vulnerable, Roan is in the palm of my hand…” Lexa murmured, looking deep in thought.

Clarke stiffened slightly. “What do you mean?”

“We finish this. One way, or another.” Lexa replied, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Shouldn’t Anya be here for this?” Clarke pressed softly.

“She’s busy with Reyes.” Lexa answered. “Your friend is hurt, Clarke.”

“I don’t know how to help her, Lexa.” Clarke sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I lied to her. I had a hand in this. That’s not going to heal overnight.”

“No.” Lexa agreed. “It won’t. But just showing her that you care, that will be enough.”

“You think?” Clarke murmured unsurely.

“I know.” Lexa nodded, nudging Clarke’s arm gently.

“And what about Octavia?” Clarke asked.

“What of her?” Lexa replied, brow raised.

“She…she won’t just stand by and watch us obliterate Bellamy, Lex. That’s her brother.”

Lexa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m running out of options, Clarke.”

“We can think of something.” Clarke faced her, putting her hands on Lexa’s shoulders. “Together.”

“Clarke, don’t forget who I am, because…I can’t change that.” Lexa murmured. “I’m certainly not a hero, and I-”

Clarke wouldn’t let her finish. “I didn’t fall in love with you because I thought you were someone else, Lexa.” She responded intensely, staring Lexa down. “That pretty much went out the window with our first date.” She added lightly, watching Lexa’s eyes search hers.

“Then, why?” Lexa asked softly, unable to comprehend it.

“This goes a lot deeper than good and bad, I think…” Clarke murmured. “I used to see it that way, but…God, I don’t even know anymore. All I know is that I love who you are, Lexa. The dedication, the fierceness, the concern…” She traced her fingers lightly over Lexa’s arms. “That’s all I need to know.”

“And Bellamy?” Lexa murmured. “What happens when…When I have to make that decision, Clarke? Could you love me even then?”

Clarke nodded sadly, leaning forward to press a kiss to Lexa’s cheek. “I…I couldn’t imagine it ending this way. But If I had to…I would choose you, over and over again…” Clarke whispered.

Lexa didn’t want to have to do that to Clarke. She really didn’t. Clarke was her world, her reason for existing, at that point. But she knew Bellamy was a threat that needed to be eliminated. She knew she had to choose between Clarke, and her duty.

“So you won’t try to stop me?” Lexa asked quietly.

“I didn’t say that.” Clarke protested. “Lexa, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to find some sort of…some scraping of humanity in him. I know, he’s so far gone, but…if you don’t believe in redemption, what’s the point of life?”

“I know.” Lexa sighed softly. “And that’s why I love you.” She pressed a soft kiss to Clarke’s forehead. She glanced at her watch. “I have to go. I’ll be back soon, alright?”

“Be safe.” Clarke replied softly, hugging Lexa one last time before stepping back.

She had some chores of her own to do before Lexa arrived.

* * *

 

“Raven, I brought you here to blow off some steam, not tear your muscles.” Anya tsked, watching Raven mercilessly throw punches at the heavyweight bag that hung from the ceiling. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to do, if you keep this up.”

“Bellamy Blake is still alive.” Raven whipped around on Anya, the dim lighting of the gym making her expression look even darker. She was clad in only a sports bra, and shorts, and her body was in full view.

Anya hadn’t ever really blushed before, in her lifetime. She subtly took in Raven’s immaculate figure, her leg not even a factor in Anya’s mind as she drank in the power and beauty of the woman before her.

“Yes, and if we’re going to have a “state-the-obvious” competition, Clarke and Lexa are probably screwing right now.” Anya shrugged. “Your point?”

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Why is everyone okay with this?” She demanded fiercely. “Why is no one demanding retribution? Why is no one trying to get him?”

Anya crossed her arms. “What do you think Lexa is doing?”

Raven scoffed. “Lexa? She’s been at it for years and she couldn’t fucking do it.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “It’s never been like this before.”

Raven stepped into Anya’s space, chest heaving. “I’m done with the excuses.” She panted. “I’m done with the lies.” She shook her head.

“What’s the matter, Raven?” Anya growled. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost somebody to this?”

Raven froze. She didn’t know how to answer, how to respond. She hadn’t considered that Anya’s grief may have been as pertinent as her own.

“I get it. You lost Finn Collins. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that those bastards lied. Griffin did it to protect you. She’s probably the reason why you’re alive now.” Anya said it like it was.

Raven’s jaw clenched. “So I should just forgive her?”

“Yes.” Anya replied, arms folded across her chest.

“Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s bullshit.” Raven sighed, turning around, slamming her fist into the punching bag once more.

Anya blinked at the sharp sound of the slapping of Raven’s glove against the bag.

“So what?” Anya sighed, coming over to steady the bag while Raven launched punches at it left and right, with great efficiency, but mostly anger. “You’re going to run off and try to kill Bellamy, and wind up dying in the process?”

Raven didn’t answer, slamming her fists into the bag with brute force.

“Or, you can wait for Lexa’s plan, and be the one to pull the trigger.” Anya shrugged. “Because I can guarantee you, that’s what it’s going to come to. Bellamy Blake will die.”

Raven stopped, chest heaving once more, heart pounding within her. “Yeah? I thought so too, until I saw how whipped she is for Griffin. News flash, Anya, she wouldn’t do that to Clarke.”

Anya looked unimpressed by Raven’s logic. “You don’t think so? Lexa Woods is the head of the most vicious gang in D.C. She’s kind of known for this sort of thing.”

“That was before Clarke.” Raven rolled her eyes. “And Clarke, for whatever fucking reason, doesn’t want Bellamy dead. You getting the picture, here?”

Anya sighed. “If Bellamy becomes a threat to Clarke, which he now has, he’s dead.”

Raven blinked. She hadn’t considered that. “So it’s a done deal then?” She muttered. “I get to end his pathetic fucking existence?”

Anya’s eyes were hard, analyzing Raven’s face and expression for traces of doubt. She found none, and that worried her incredibly. “Sure.” She shrugged, deciding to play it nonchalantly.

Raven nodded, fists clenching in anticipation.

“But do you think that will change anything?” Anya asked coldly.

Raven glanced up in surprise.

“Do you think you’ll feel absolved? Do you think that it’ll make your demons disappear?” Anya demanded, tone rising in intensity.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel.” Raven shrugged. “Just that he gets what’s coming to him.”

“You know why you’re here?” Anya demanded, stepping forward, in front of Raven.

“Enlighten me.” Raven spat, glancing at Anya with fire in her gaze.

“Because you’re a loose canon, Reyes. Everyone thinks you’re on the edge.”

“Yeah?” Raven smirked. “And what if I am?”

Anya rolled her eyes. “It’s an act, Raven. You’re hurt. You think you’re alone. But I know you’re smarter than that. Hell, I see right through this…” she motioned to Raven. “-Empty façade. Come on, be honest with yourself.”

Raven’s smirk only grew. “You know what? You’re right.”

Anya remained stoic, watching her with interest.

“You wanna be forward? Honest?” Raven began animatedly. “How about the truth about why I’m here, then?”

Anya didn’t answer. She held Raven’s amber gaze with one of her own.

“I’m here because you…” Raven took a breath, stepping forward. “Have to get over Lincoln. And I’m your new project.”

Anya’s expression broke for a moment. “That’s not-”

“No?” Raven questioned, tone sharp. “Not it? Then what?”

Anya opened her mouth to answer, but instead, Raven moved, pushing her against the wall several feet behind her. Anya back up against it in a smooth glide, breath hitching when Raven slid her hands around her waist, pressing her up against the wall.

“Is this what you want?” Raven whispered, expression bitter.

Anya shook her head, yanking Raven forward by the front of her bra, effectively surprising the other girl. She attacked her lips with her own, in a ferocious hunger that consumed both girls as Anya’s hands slid down the sleek contours of Raven’s body, Raven’s hands pressed against the wall for support, her breathing labored.

Anya pulled back for a moment, breathless as she leaned her forehead against Raven’s, eyes on her swollen lips.

“You may be fucked up, Reyes. But so am I.”

Raven melted into her touch, forgetting all about Bellamy Blake, even for just a little while.

* * *

 

Clarke made her way down the main entrance of Lexa’s house, waiting ever so impatiently for her arrival.

Lexa had been gone for nearly an hour, and Clarke knew she still had another to go.

The wait was sweet torture, because Clarke knew what awaited her when she arrived. Titus had left with Lexa and Indra, and she knew only Lexa would be returning.

For once, they’d be uninterrupted. They’d be free to simply be with each other. And the very thought made Clarke’s heart pound in her chest.

She couldn’t just daydream about being with Lexa anymore. It wasn’t enough.

In her time spent waiting, she’d tried to at least be semi productive. She’d first called her mother, who answered the phone on the second ring.

_“Clarke.” Abby’s voice was buzzing with concern. “Are you alright?”_

_“What? Yes, mom, I’m fine.” Clarke assured gently._

_“What about Lexa?” Abby pressed, and Clarke’s heart was warmed by her concern._

_“Lexa’s fine too.” Clarke promised. “We’re…more than fine.”_

_“Clarke?” Abby’s voice sounded curiously happy on the other end of the line. “What does that mean?”_

_Clarke felt nervous admitting anything to her mother. They weren’t too close, though they’d been getting better about communicating their feelings._

_“I’m in love.” Clarke croaked out._

_There was silence on the other end of the line._

_“…mom?” Clarke asked tentatively._

_Did Abby not like Lexa? Did Clarke care about Abby’s approval? Everything was spinning in Clarke’s mind, every intricate little web, until-_

_“Clarke?” Abby repeated. “What’s the news?”_

_Clarke frowned. “What? Mom? That is the news. I’m in love with Lexa. She loves me. I…we’re…”_

_Abby let out a little laugh, one that took Clarke back to her childhood, when things were different. “Clarke, honey, that’s not news. I knew that from the moment I saw her gaze at you like that.”_

_“What?” Clarke sputtered. “Seriously?”_

_“Yes.” Abby was smiling over her end, Clarke could just feel it. “I thought you two had been over that. She was practically all over you at the hospital.”_

_Clarke blushed profusely. “Mom.” Clarke began gently. “Lexa actually told me to call you.”_

_“Why’s that?” Abby responded, and Clarke could hear the beeping of machines and telephones in the background. She had to have been working a shift at the hospital._

_“It’s Bellamy, mom.” Clarke sighed. “He’s…not okay.”_

_Abby’s voice sounded grave. “I know. I saw what he did to Lexa.”_

_Clarke shook her head, even though her mother couldn’t see. “It’s a lot worse than that. He’s digging his own grave, and…I…I can’t stop Lexa, mom. I…god, I feel awful saying this, but…I’m not even sure if I should.”_

_Abby sighed into the line. “You’re worried about me?”_

_“Yes.” Clarke’s response was instant, and it warmed Abby’s heart to no end. That was certainly progress since their first chat._

_“I’ll be fine, Clarke. I dealt with his parents, I can sure as hell deal with him.” Abby’s resolve was admirable._

_“Mom, I…I just got you back.” Clarke admitted over the line. “I’m not sure…I…I don’t think I can handle losing you again.”_

_Abby’s voice was filled with melancholic sorrow. “Oh, Clarke, honey…” She murmured. “I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I should be worried about you. Where are you?”_

_“Lexa’s.” Clarke responded softly._

_“Good. If you’ll be safe with anyone, it’s her.” Abby sighed. “Are you alright?”_

_“Yes, mom.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yes, mom.”_

_“Clarke, we can go back to New York and-”_

_“No, we can’t.” Clarke’s voice was firm._

_“It’s Lexa, right?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“We can bring her too.” Abby offered wholeheartedly._

_“Mom, this is our fight.” Clarke murmured into the receiver. “I just…” Clarke sighed. “I wanted to let you know that…I love you. And I miss you.”_

_Abby’s heart swelled, and Clarke just knew her eyes would be welling with tears. “Oh, Clarke, I love you too. Be safe, alright? We can talk any time you want to, okay?”_

_Clarke smiled to herself. “Thanks, mom.”_

Clarke had gathered her emotions as best she could, slipping outside of Lexa’s front door, deciding to venture out into the expansive property, hoping to quell her anxiety before Lexa’s return.

Clarke had even called Raven twice. For whatever reason, be it anger or business, Raven refused to answer Clarke’s calls.

Little did she know.

She’d followed the cobblestone driveway, admiring the way the trees, lining up on either side, bent and curved to meet each other in the center, creating an archway of sorts.

Clarke thought about her past with Lexa.

She thought about how they were enemies, and how she thought she could handle her.

She thought about the date, and the drugging, and the lies, and the anger.

She thought about the first time she realized she might have been in love with Lexa, after Emerson’s passing.

She reflected on their highs and lows, their peaks and their intense valleys.

She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Not one second spent with Lexa, whether romantically or merely being in her presence, was something Clarke could regret.

She wandered along the driveway, towards the main gate, aching to see Lexa pull up on her motorcycle. But she would have heard that coming.

Instead, she took in the scenery, watching the clouds that flitted past, trying to calm herself. Everything would be fine, once Lexa returned.

Clarke had to admit, she’d considered her relationship with Lexa several times that morning. Were they lovers? Not officially. Friends? That was too mild. Girlfriends? Was it official? Gang wives, as Raven would have suggested, if she were talking to Clarke?

Clarke’s thoughts were interrupted when a round object came whizzing past her head. She barely had time to duck before it landed behind her, rolling down slowly. Clarke’s eyes took in what appeared to be…was that a soccer ball?

Clarke’s eyes adjusted to the gate, where a little boy, no older than ten, was plugging numbers into the console.

Clarke’s eyes widened. Was he a delinquent? A trespasser? Didn’t everyone know better to trespass onto the property of the most notorious gangster in D.C.?

The little boy grinned when the gate opened, and he made for the driveway like lightning, running after his ball.

Clarke froze, realizing he’d just broken into Lexa Woods’ private property. She had to stop him, right?

“Hey…” Clarke called out somewhat doubtfully, unsure of what to say.

The sandy haired boy froze, whipping around, eyes widening when he took Clarke in. He held his ball under his foot, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Y…you’re not Lexa…” He mumbled.

Clarke realized, then, that somehow, this kid new Lexa.

And she probably had given him the entry code.

“No, I’m Clarke.” Clarke offered, throwing her hands up in a peaceful motion.

Aden narrowed his eyes. “Does Lexa know you’re here, Clarke?”

Clarke froze this time. “What? I..I…yeah, um…”

Wait a minute.

She wasn’t about to be interrogated.

She was Lexa’s not-girlfriend, dammit. She was in control.

“Yeah.” Clarke cleared her throat. “We’re uh…friends.”

Aden nodded slowly, seeming to trust that. “I’m her friend too. I’m Aden.”

Clarke relaxed, taking a step forward. “Aden.” She repeated, nodding. “Can I…may I ask how you know Lexa?”

Aden nodded, kicking his ball into his hands with a swift motion. “Sure. She’s my sitter.”

Clarke nearly choked on her own spit. “Your what? Lexa baby-sits?”

Aden smiled. “Well, she did, before she joined the marines. Which is so cool. I want to be like Lexa when I grow up.”

“Oh!” Clarke nodded in realization. “Okay. So…you…”

“-We’re neighbors.” Aden added with a knowing glance. “I used to kick my ball in here, so one day Lexa just gave me the code, and made me promise to keep it a secret. So, sorry, I can’t tell you…”

Clarke chuckled. The kid was pretty cute. “That’s alright, Aden. I’m kind of living here for the time being, anyway.”

“You are? That’s cool. Lexa used to let me stay up and watch tv.” Aden responded, dribbling the soccer ball between his feet deftly.

Clarke watched him with a spark of interest in her eyes. “Aden, can you tell me what Lexa was like, when she was babysitting you?”

She knew it was an odd question, but Clarke was dying to know more about Lexa. She couldn’t help it. It was refreshing, comforting even, to hear about how things were before tensions ran high and blood ruled the streets.

“Lexa is the coolest person ever.” Aden grinned. “She used to come home from school, and my parents would go on vacation, so she used to play games with me. She let me stay up and eat junk food sometimes.” He shrugged. “She talked on the phone with her girlfriend a lot, too.”

Clarke nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. Costia.

“But the coolest thing…” Aden smirked.

“What’s that?” Clarke queried gently.

“She can fight. Like a ninja. I’ve seen it.” Aden grinned.

“Whoa, really?” Clarke feigned her best look of surprise. “No way.”

“Way.” Aden nodded enthusiastically. “She used to show me some moves, if I ate my broccoli.”

Clarke laughed at that, impressed that she manipulated him so well.

Aden glanced behind him. “Lexa’s not here, huh?” He asked, a tinge of disappointment in his tone.

“No, she’s away on business.” Clarke replied sympathetically.

“Yeah, ever since she came back from the marines, she’s been gone a lot.” Aden shrugged. “I wish we could hang out again. Sometimes I see her. She looks busy all the time. And tired.”

Clarke’s face fell, and her heart ached for Aden and Lexa.

She would have liked to have seen them interact. To see Lexa’s softer side, her younger self.

“Anyway, I gotta get back in time for practice.” Aden waved a little goodbye. “Bye Clarke.”

“Bye, Aden.” Clarke smiled, watching him kick the ball down the driveway in a flurry of steps, disappearing past the closing gate.

Clarke swore she’d get to see that dynamic, that side of Lexa some day.

* * *

 

 “Clarke?” Lexa called out as she unlocked her door, stepping into the main entrance. She glanced at her watch, biting her lip slightly. Not two hours. She’d made it an extra prompt meeting just to get back to Clarke.

She was craving her.

She needed her.

“Clarke?” Lexa called again, this time, concern tinging her tone.

“Hey!” Clarke called, descending from the staircase, with hurried steps.

“Hi.” Lexa murmured in relief when Clarke appeared, standing on the last step, throwing her arms around Lexa, who greeted her with a soft kiss.

“Everything okay?” Clarke asked gently, leaning into Lexa’s touch.

“Yeah.” Lexa nodded. “No major decisions made, like I promised. Just…looking at our options.”

“Well, that’s good.” Clarke murmured as she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Lexa’s jaw. “Because I’m not really feeling like talking about business right now.”

“Oh?” Lexa teased, smiling against Clarke’s touch. “Pleasure, then?”

Clarke laughed beautifully, a melodic sound, when Lexa lifted her up, carrying her up the steps like she was weightless, taking her into the room.

Still holding her, Lexa expertly kicked off her shoes, never breaking contact with Clarke.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Lexa murmured, moaning a little when Clarke placed expertly timed kisses on her neck.

Clarke shook her head innocently, continuing her handiwork.

“Since I saw you at Kane’s office.” She admitted, smirking when she saw Clarke’s look of surprise.

She carried Clarke into her bedroom, laying Clarke on the bed delicately, as if she were made of glass, bound to shatter at the slightest impact.

Clarke sat up, pulling Lexa back down to her lips, turning so that she was on top of Lexa. She straddled her, knees going on either side of Lexa’s body as she placed her hands along Lexa’s abs, teasingly dragging her fingers down, stopping around her belt.

“May I, Ms. Woods?” Clarke teased in a husky tone, her best impression of herself on the first day.

Lexa only smiled in response, leaning forward to kiss Clarke once more as Clarke removed her button-up, achingly slowly, tongue sweeping Lexa’s mouth.

“Clarke.” Lexa huffed.

“It takes as long as it takes.” Clarke smirked, using Lexa’s own words against her.

Lexa had been waiting too damn long for this. She sat up, growling and yanking her shirt off in one motion, her tank top coming off with it, revealing a black lacy bra that left Clarke gaping.

“That’s more like my speed.” Lexa muttered against Clarke’s lips, sighing as Clarke pushed her back down, smirking still.

“Relax, commander.” Clarke murmured, smirking still when she saw the way Lexa was turned on by the name. “Watch. Enjoy this.” Clarke shimmied out of her shirt, momentarily leaning off Lexa to do the same with her pants. She returned to her straddling position, now only in her lacy underwear and bra, blushing slightly when she saw Lexa’s eyes hungrily drink in the sight of her body.

“You’re so beautiful, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, her lips crashing into Clarke’s as she pulled Clarke down, playfully biting her bottom lip. Clarke whimpered a little, and Lexa’s hands trailed across her bare skin, taking the time to map out every inch, without ever ceasing her kiss with Clarke. Lexa’s hands traced the tips of her abs, resting over her scar.

She felt Clarke hesitate momentarily.

She leaned forward, pressing seven little kisses against Clarke’s scar, glancing up with love into Clarke’s eyes. “All of you.” She murmured. “I want all of you, Clarke.”

And just like that, Clarke’s insides melted as she reached down, unbuttoning Lexa’s pants as she rolled them off, fingers sliding down Lexa’s goddess-like legs.

Clarke leaned forward, recapturing Lexa’s lips hungrily as Lexa held her firmly in place, her arms snaking around Clarke, fingers deftly undoing the hook on Clarke’s bra, throwing it to the side as their kiss intensified, Clarke grinding down into Lexa’s lap, needy.

Lexa’s fingers traced the curves, the hills and valleys of Clarke’s breasts as she felt Clarke shiver beneath her, thumbs brushing against Clarke’s nipple, teasing her ever so gently.

“Lexa.” Clarke moaned into her mouth, urging her to stop with the teasing.

It was Lexa’s turn to smirk against her lips, one hand sliding down to the front of Clarke’s panties, which were now thoroughly wet. From over the cover of the fabric, she dragged her fingertips against Clarke’s sex, shivering at the way the girl writhed, bucking her hips at the touch.

Lexa removed her finger, trailing them up Clarke’s back, watching as Clarke pulled apart from their kiss long enough to whimper, “Lexa, please…”

Lexa leaned into Clarke’s kiss, peeling Clarke’s panties off her thighs as she took her fingers, dragging them across Clarke’s sex, watching her shiver in delight, moaning with reckless abandon against Lexa’s lips.

“You’re so ready for me.” Lexa mumbled into Clarke’s lips.

“I waited…” Clarke’s breathing was ragged against her clipped tone, want filling every syllable.

Her touch was so gentle, and Clarke was desperate to get more, anything at all, as she ground down onto Lexa’s hips, already soaking, legs quivering at her touch.

“Please, Lexa… Take me.” She mumbled Lexa’s name, crying out slightly into her lover’s shoulder when Lexa slid her fingers in past Clarke’s wet folds, pressing them into her center.

Clarke moaned Lexa’s name even louder when Lexa used her other hand to pinch her nipple slightly, lips finding Clarke’s neck in a predatory claim, leaving behind the softest of bruises in her wake.

“You’re so beautiful.” Lexa mumbled against Clarke’s neck, watching Clarke sink lower onto her fingers, her walls clenching around her as she began to set a pace, pumping in and out, her fingers curling slightly against Clarke’s walls.

Clarke trembled on her capable fingers, biting her lip to keep from crying out profanities.

“God, Lexa…” Clarke gasped helplessly when Lexa sped up slightly, watching Clarke buck her hips desperately, as if it would push her deeper onto Lexa’s long, elegant fingers. “I’ve wanted you in me for so long, I-” she gasped as Lexa took her breast between her teeth, biting down slightly.

Lexa could feel Clarke tightening more and more around her with each thrust as she sped up, her thumb brushing against Clarke’s clit in teasing circles.

Clarke had never seen or felt such deft hands and movements, and she was overwhelmed. She pressed down onto Lexa’s touch, crying out when Lexa pressed her thumb against her clit like that, her entire body tightening, readying itself for the white hot wave of pleasure that was about to come.

Lexa pressed up into Clarke, pushing her fingers with a final curl as she felt Clarke tighten around her, almost to the point where she couldn’t move.

“Come for me, Clarke.” Lexa commanded in her ordering tone, right in Clarke’s ear.

That seemed to affect both of them as Clarke unraveled on top of her.

Clarke gasped out in pleasure, murmuring her name in a muffled sound, fingers clawing at Lexa’s back, face pressed into Lexa’s shoulder as she saw stars. She rode out her orgasm on Lexa’s fingers, still pumping diligently through her as her entire body convulsed in the most pleasurable way.

“God, I love you.” Clarke muttered and Lexa chuckled, slowly removing her soaking fingers from Clarke’s center, bringing them up.

Clarke, dazed in pleasure as she was, smirked, murmuring. “My turn, commander…” She took Lexa’s fingers into her mouth, past her swollen lips, tasting herself.

Lexa almost gaped at the motion, and Clarke smirked at the desired effect.

Clarke glanced at Lexa’s bra disdainfully. “Take that off.” She ordered hoarsely, sliding off of Lexa’s body, secretly adoring the way Lexa whined in protest at the loss of contact.

Lexa did as she was told, sliding her bra off, her entire body shivering at the feeling of Clarke dragging her hands across her body.

Lexa laced her hands with Clarke, who kneeled before Lexa’s legs, smile in place.

“I want to see you.” Lexa nearly whined.

Clarke responded by sliding a hand between her thighs, gently asking for permission.

Lexa opened them almost immediately, watching as Clarke leaned forward to remove her soaking panties with her teeth, which immediately turned Lexa on to the fullest extent, her body aching to be touched, her mind telling her to pleasure Clarke selflessly.

“You’re perfect.” Clarke groaned huskily, pressing wet kisses, trailing up the inside of Lexa’s thigh. “Every inch of you.”

Lexa had to blink away the hazy vision she got just from Clarke’s wet kisses on her inner thigh.

“I want to taste you.” Clarke whispered. “I want to make love to every inch of you. I want you quivering over my tongue, Lexa.” Clarke murmured, pressing a kiss to Lexa’s sex.

Lexa did just that, shuddering entirely as her hands grazed the tips of Clarke’s fingers, which now moved to wrap around Lexa’s thighs, anchoring her center to Clarke’s lips.

“Clarke…” Lexa gasped when Clarke drew her tongue over Lexa’s wet folds, mapping out and tasting every inch of her love. “Please…”

Clarke acquiesced, her tongue sliding into Lexa’s center, causing her to buck slightly onto Clarke’s mouth, trying desperately to feel more of the blindingly sweet sensation.

Lexa’s eyes were lidded with pleasure as she felt her fingers dig into the sheets, curling with unbearable pleasure. She threw her head back for a moment, moving her hips in sync with Clarke’s perfect mouth, unable to get enough.

Clarke hummed contentedly against her wet folds, turned on by Lexa's reaction alone.

Lexa’s back arched in pleasure as she felt Clarke’s lips wrap around her clit, feeling the soft sucking of the bundle of nerves. Clarke’s fingers replaced the vacancy of her tongue, sliding in and out rhythmically as Lexa’s hips jerked against every movement.

“Clarke…God, I…” Lexa’s moan was cut off by her own gasps of pleasure.  

Clarke’s tongue was relentless against her core, working in sync with her fingers, throwing Lexa over the edge in a dangerously sweet climax. Lexa’s lungs burned with every gasp as she cried out in pleasure.

"Come for me Lexa." Clarke murmured against her sex, pressing a kiss to her core. 

Clarke curled her fingers against Lexa’s front wall and she was gone. washed away in a blinding, golden light that swallowed her entire vision as she released.

Her body was rippling with waves of raw pleasure as she arched her back, her head falling back onto the bed carelessly as she felt Clarke’s fingers slowly stop pumping in her.

Clarke pressed a final kiss to her center before climbing up slowly, lips still wet as she pressed a kiss to Lexa’s lips.

Lexa moaned softly into the kiss, her arms wrapping around Clarke as their lips entangled in a swollen mess, and she tasted herself with satisfaction.

Lexa leaned her head back, fingers tracing the length of Clarke’s back, panting slightly as they separated, Clarke’s head falling beside her as she slid off Lexa, propping herself on one elbow.

“You okay baby?” Clarke asked softly, a smile on her lips.

"More than okay." Lexa murmured, kissing Clarke's cheek. "I love you, Clarke. More than that. I'm in love with you. Every single inch..." She hummed contentedly, bringing Clarke's hand up to kiss it softly, lovingly. 

"And I love you, Lexa." Clarke replied with a smile, her voice full of adoration, returning the favor with a gentle kiss to Lexa's shoulder. 

Lexa was finally at ease around Clarke, completely relaxed, freezing only when Clarke ran her hands along her side, gently turning Lexa over.

After a moment of silence, Lexa realized that Clarke was staring at her tattoo, the one that ran along the length of her back.

Clarke’s fingers slid along the length of the artistry that was her tattoo, pressing kisses to Lexa’s back. “I’ve never really seen this before.” Clarke admitted, almost shyly, despite the fact that she’d tasted Lexa just moments before. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It’s from a book my father used to read to me when I was younger.” Lexa admitted softly, skin burning wherever Clarke touched.

“What’s the story about?” Clarke asked softly, turning Lexa back so that she could slide her arms around Clarke, pulling her close under the warmth of the sheets.

“Two lovers who meet. One from the sky, one from the ground.” Lexa whispered. “Against all odds, they fall in love. Around them, the earth and the sky go to war. It’s cataclysmic. The heavens and earth, at odds.”

Clarke listened intently, her head against Lexa’s chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of Lexa’s heart. “That could be us.” She murmured against Lexa’s skin, pressing a soft kiss to her chest.

“It could.” Lexa murmured, glancing down into Clarke’s gaze.

“Does it end well?” Clarke murmured after a moment of silence.

Lexa blinked, recovering from her venture into Clarke’s cerulean gaze.

“The story with the lovers.” Clarke reminded softly. “Does it end well?”

There was a pause, a moment of thought passing through Lexa’s mind, and Clarke wished she could have heard it, known it.

“No.” Lexa admitted finally, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “But we may write our own ending.”

                                                                                                         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered ending it there, but...well, there's a plot to resolve. Next time will be back on track, Linctavia, and the resolution. We have about 2-3 chapters left. (possibly more, who can really tell)...
> 
> *Note* Sunday's chapter may be delayed until Wednesday's update. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at effortlessly-opulent for story art, updates, OR just to send me a prompt or say Hi! 
> 
> I *do* have a fic coming after this for those of you who are asking. No, it's not a sequel, as the plot does not allow for one here. Details soon!
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and leaving such kind comments/kudos/etc. I look forward to hearing your thoughts as always :)


	20. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa explore their relationship and domestic life, Raven and Anya come to terms with what they're doing, and Octavia and Lincoln formulate a plan.

 

Lexa Woods lived a life of divine discipline. Day in and day out, her life was planned, from the cradle to the grave.

She was the product of her parents, the latest of an immensely powerful lineage of noble men and women, of crooks and thieves, and most recently- murderers.

Lexa had always seen herself as a part of them. Unquestioningly so.

Lexa had gone to private schools, studied endlessly, painstakingly practiced the piano and language after language, honing herself to take up the mantle of her father’s work, while pleasing her mother’s demands of aesthetics, and beauty.

She’d gotten battered and bruised in her time at the academy, where she’d thought she’d fallen in love.

She’d served her time in the bowels of hell, away from home, in the harsh environment of service. She’d made decisions that would have broken many others.

She’d returned to find her beloved mother and father, whom she’d lived her entire life for, left lifeless and unmoving in the wake of a mere car accident. She’d lost herself. She’d struggled for answers. She’d lashed out and cried and then schooled herself. She’d become stoic, and cold, and unlike the bright, intensely loving girl she’d known herself to be.

She poured her agony into her work, and life became business, and pain.

She’d convinced herself that she could only honor her parents’ memory by fulfilling their wishes and taking the helm of the company, including the dark underbelly of the business that no one dared take responsibility for.

Lexa Woods became the shell of a person.

And then, Clarke Griffin came stumbling into her life, tearing at the walls she’d so meticulously slaved over building.

And then Lexa Woods truly, actually fell in love.

Not the kind of love she thought she’d felt for Costia.

No, it was real, intense, bright, terrifying love. The kind that consumed her in a way that had to be unhealthy, but felt so right. The kind that made her forget anything but Clarke’s name, over and over again, on numb lips and an even number mind.

She didn’t think resurrection was possible.

But there she was, her second day alone with Clarke Griffin. And honestly, the day prior was spent entirely in bed- only once did she rise to bring Clarke food, and in a smiling, giggling heap, they ate together in bed. Gazing into each other’s souls, talking of whatever they pleased, before they continued their exploration of their love, specifically, in the corporeal form.

Bliss did not begin to describe Lexa’s thoughts, her feelings, the emotions that shook her to her very core.

And she knew Clarke felt the same way. She didn’t have to ask. It was in the other girl’s cerulean gaze, so blatantly filled with love, adoration, lust, and want.

They remained entangled with one another, under the blankets of Lexa’s bed, acting as if the slightest distance between them would kill them.

Clarke was a cuddler. Lexa adored it.

A husky voice interrupted her revelations, and Lexa couldn’t help but smile when she heard Clarke stir slightly behind her, legs very much entangled with Lexa, her body pressed to Lexa’s back, effectively spooning her with warmth.

“How long have you been up?” Clarke rasped, burrowing her face into the crook of Lexa’s shoulder.

The sunlight filtered into the room past the slits of the drawn curtains, setting everything ablaze in a gilded glow that perfectly captured the warmth of the moment, the intimacy of it all.

“I don’t know.” Lexa admitted softly, smile never leaving her soft lips, still tingling from the absolute pleasure of Clarke’s kisses, hours ago. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You were so peaceful.”

Clarke hummed silently, murmuring, “You wore me out.”

Lexa could proudly hear the cheekiness in her tone.

Clarke’s hand slid across Lexa’s body to lace their fingers, rubbing her thumb over the back of Lexa’s hand. “This must be hard for you.” She commented observantly.

Lexa’s brow furrowed. “Hard?” She repeated, unsure. There was nothing hard about caving into her innermost needs and pleasing Clarke.

“Yeah, staying in like this.” Clarke spoke once more, and Lexa realized she was teasing. “You’re usually up at the crack of dawn, working out, doing business.”

Lexa chuckled softly, turning around to face Clarke, who smiled at the sight of her. “We did work out.” She pointed out mildly, enjoying the blush rising on Clarke’s cheeks. “Several times. In fact, over and over-”

Clarke slapped her hand lightly, earning yet another soft laugh. Clarke immediately bore a grin.

“What?” Lexa asked, taking in Clarke’s amused features.

“Nothing, it’s just…I love your laugh.” Clarke admitted sheepishly, and now it was Lexa’s turn to blush. “It’s so beautiful, so light…you should do it more often.”

Lexa’s heart clenched and for a moment she thought that she was content to die, right there, in Clarke’s arms, away from the rest of the world. Clarke’s comments were so soft and innocent, laced with adoration and kindness…Lexa didn’t know how to respond. She was overwhelmed.

Clarke withdrew her warmth, rolling off her side of the bed, and Lexa tried not to stare at the pristine figure before her, bare, save for Lexa’s predatory markings of love.

Clarke had returned the favor, to be fair.

Lexa whined. “Where are you going, Clarke?”

Clarke smiled, biting her lip to keep from commenting on how cute Lexa was when she wined like that. “What?” She teased, her voice innocent. “You were planning on spending another whole day in bed? Just ravaging me?” She grinned.

“Worshipping, I think, is the better term.” Lexa replied with a knowing little smile. “And, yes, I was.”

“What about work?” Clarke asked amusedly, stretching her back. “You used to be quite the workaholic, if I remember correctly.”

Lexa sat up, shifting her gaze to the clock beside her bed. “Tomorrow.” She shrugged casually.

Clarke gaped exaggeratedly. “Am I hearing this correctly? Lexa Woods, not caring about work? I must be something special.”

Lexa’s eyes found Clarke’s gaze adoringly. “You are.” She replied softly, melting Clarke’s heart all over again.

Clarke took a breath she didn’t know she needed, and then stepped forward, beckoning Lexa forth with a little smile.

“I think we need to clean up.” Clarke smirked, and she didn’t have to say it twice. Lexa rose, allowing Clarke to grasp her wrist and tug her into the bathroom, the two girls laughing blissfully the entire time.

* * *

 

Anya’s apartment was dimly lit, as she’d taken to closing all the curtains so that Raven could get a modicum of sleep.

They’d had sex, and while Anya wouldn’t deny that it was earth-shatteringly good, she’d wondered if it had been the right call.

Neither woman had been in their correct state of mind. Anya was taken by lust and a need to show Raven her dominance, while Raven was consumed by anger and ego. When the two had met in the midst of their heated discourse, the end result was inevitable.

What Anya hadn’t counted on was practically being yanked back to her apartment for rounds two, and three, consecutively.

She glanced down at the still sleeping girl before her, hair out of its typical ponytail, splayed around her in graceful waves across the pillow. She was peaceful, like this. The angry lines from her forehead smoothed out, her lips soft and slightly parted.

Anya felt a sad wave of emotion course through her. Raven Reyes was loyal, brave, and a good soldier. She deserved better than the constant disregard that the world handed her. She was more than a pawn to be shrugged off by Bellamy. She was more than a broken soul, longing over Finn, or a loose cannon waiting to go off.

She was bright. Her mind was beautiful, she was gifted. She was intelligent, with a fire to match the heat of the flames of hell itself. And she was passionately protective. Anya knew she was all talk when it came to hating Clarke. She knew that, deep inside, Raven adored Clarke and Octavia, and would do anything for them.

If only Lexa had gotten to Raven before Bellamy had.

Anya clicked her tongue in annoyance, just thinking of how lucky she was to have had the fortune of serving Lexa instead of Bellamy, or any of the other scum that called themselves kingpins or otherwise.

Raven stirred slightly, and Anya could see the muscles in her back tense as her eyes shot open and she took in the greatly unfamiliar, albeit small, surroundings of Anya’s apartment.

“Fuck.” Raven blew out a breath.

Anya smirked, leaning against the doorframe. Still the same old Raven, it seemed.

Raven took in Anya’s outfit- she was in a sports bra and fitting tights, and looked like she’d just gotten back from the gym.

“Seriously?” Raven groaned. “Wasn’t last night enough exercise for you?”

Anya shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess I just have more stamina.” She teased.

Raven grumbled something incoherent, and made a motion to move, sitting up in bed, tossing her hair over her shoulder neatly. As she made an attempt to rise, however, she felt a hot pain shoot through her knee. Wincing, she hit her head against the headboard, hands clenching at her leg from atop the cover of the thin sheet.

Anya was over in seconds, concern etched across her normally stoic features. “Reyes?” She asked, sitting in the small spot beside Raven, her hands hovering over Raven’s knee. “Let me see.”

Raven spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s fine.” She growled. “Ghost pains.”

Anya raised a brow. She had thought that only occurred in the entire loss of a limb, but she knew better than to question Raven. The girl was tough as nails. If she was wincing like this, it was real.

“You need something?” Anya asked hesitantly, removing her hovering hands slowly, reluctantly.

“Vicodin.” Raven growled, clutching her leg.

Anya bit her lip. She’d seen Raven popping her pills, downing them like they were nothing but sugar. She’d worried, secretly, to herself.

“Reyes, that’s-”

“Hydrocodone, Anya. You fucking work for Lexa Woods, don’t tell me you don’t-” Raven’s masked pleas for help were soon heeded, and Anya shot up, returning from her medicine cabinet with a small prescribed container.

She tossed it to Raven, watching her catch it with nearly shaky hands as she folded her arms across her chest. “Compliments of Lexa.” She muttered, just wondering what her boss would think of her use of the product.

Raven swallowed the pill dry, leaning back as she breathed deeply, allowing her leg to stretch a little.

Anya turned, making a movement to leave the room to give her some privacy.

“Wait.” Raven sighed, propping herself up a little more. “Anya…”

Anya closed her eyes briefly, ignoring the pathetic little spring of hope in her chest. She turned, watching Raven expectantly.

“I’m…sorry.” Raven murmured.

Anya blinked in surprise. That was certainly not what she was expecting. An apology? From Raven Reyes?

“For last night, or just now?” Anya decided to comment with her guard up.

“Just now.” Raven answered a little too quickly, and it took everything in Anya’s arsenal not to break into a smile. “I was…in pain. I am, actually.”

“I know.” Anya answered calmly. “I wanted to help. I still do, if you’ll let me.”

“Why?” Raven’s question was posed as a sort of desperate sigh of utter confusion.

Anya’s heart ached for the girl. It was almost as if she couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to help her, to care. She knew that it could be attributed to, at least in part, her seemingly tortured past. But she also knew that Octavia’s betrayal was the first blow, Clarke’s was the second, and Bellamy’s was the final straw.

She felt awful. But Anya was a pragmatist, she knew that this was life. She’d seen Lexa experience a similar sort of pain with Costia’s betrayal, and the death of her parents. Hell, Anya had experienced it firsthand herself.

But now, all she could do was be a pillar for Raven to lean on. And she was intent on doing so.

“Why not?” Anya challenged.

“I mean, who are you to me?” Raven asked, with perhaps a bit more bite than intended.

Anya knew she had a point, and Anya also knew she was closing her walls rapidly. She needed to appeal to her.

“A friend.” Anya murmured.

“Really?” Raven scoffed. “Why? Because we screwed?”

Anya’s gaze darkened slightly. “That’s how you interpreted that?”

“That’s what it was, wasn’t it?” Raven asked, desperation showing in her tone. “You using me to get over Lincoln, me using you to get over Bellamy’s betrayal.”

“You think that’s it?” Anya asked, jaw tightening.

“If this were two, three days ago…I wouldn’t have hesitated on pulling a trigger and ending your life.” Raven muttered.

Anyone else would have taken that as the abrasion it was so brutally meant to be.

Anya was not anyone else.

“Yet, here we are.” Anya challenged wryly, lifting Raven’s shirt, throwing it at her lap. “Get ready.” She ordered, a tinge of softness to her tone.

“Why?” Raven asked, finger tips grazing the shirt, lightly smelling of Anya’s perfume.

“Because I made you breakfast.”

* * *

 

“Bellamy…” The blonde’s whisper was soft, echoing along the walls of Bellamy’s study, where he sat dejectedly at the desk, fingers wrapped around a pen that he clicked out and in, over and over again. “Come to bed. It’s early.”

Bellamy glanced up, taking in Costia’s picturesque figure, wrapped in nothing more than a white sheet.

She was perfect. She was kind and quirky, funny, and incredibly bright. Bellamy had known her for years.

But she wasn’t Clarke Griffin.

The soft light of the morning glow was sickening to Bellamy. The golden light that used to bring him joy and excitement, now destroyed him. He was doing this to himself. Picturing Clarke, imagining her there, with him…All his shining opportunities to confess his feelings for her, wasted.

Because now, somewhere, somehow, Lexa Woods was having her way with Clarke Griffin.

Under the guise of some imaginary love Lexa had no doubt conjured up just to get to Bellamy. Then again, he’d done the same to her with Costia, so maybe this was divine retribution, was it not? He’d torn away the one thing holding Lexa together, for his family, for his people. And now she’d done the same.

He rubbed his temples, migraine coursing through his head. He needed sleep, Costia was right.

But she felt so entirely wrong.

“Bell…” She murmured, and Bellamy closed his eyes, trying to imagine Clarke Griffin instead. Costia took a step forward, coming over to lightly rub his shoulder while she covered herself with her other hand. “Come on. It’s cold. You’re stressed.”

Bellamy swallowed the retort that rose in his throat. He clenched his fist around the pen, blinking away the hazy vision. “Octavia’s not back.”

Costia looked mildly uncomfortable. “Bellamy, I…”

“I know.” Bellamy spoke through gritted teeth. “I know. She’s not coming back.”

Costia didn’t answer. Instead she took Bellamy’s wrist, silently tugging him back to the adjacent bedroom, where the darkness was entrapped in a cocoon.

“You’ve fallen for a Grounder before.” Bellamy sounded livid. “What’s that like?”

Costia didn’t flinch. “Lexa was kind to me. It was an unfortunate casualty, losing her.”

Bellamy chuckled darkly. “That’s what you call it? When you came to me, in your final year at the academy, with those sad blue eyes, asking for….what did you call it….an alliance?”

Costia didn’t look bothered. “I have a family to protect too, you know. Our arrangement was compensation enough for them to never work again.”

Bellamy looked at her with a look of hidden disdain. “You know what’s fucked?” He mumbled, as she leaned forward to capture his lips.

“What?” Costia indulged him, his arms dropping the sheet from her body.

“Lexa probably would have paid you that much anyway. She loved you.” Bellamy jabbed, knowing he was hitting a rather sensitive, guarded issue.

Costia wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. “Yeah? Well, now she loves Clarke Griffin.”

Bellamy growled into the kiss, and Costia let out a moan. “It hurts, right?” He muttered, hands sliding down to pick her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. “It hurts, knowing that she loves someone else.”

For Bellamy, it was Clarke, and for Costia, it was Lexa. But the same rules still applied, it seemed.

“Shut up, Blake.” Costia hissed into the hot kisses he was pressing into her neck, marking her with little bites as she pressed herself against him.

“We lost them.”

* * *

 

“Octavia, hear me out.” Lincoln sighed, sitting on the counter, watching his girlfriend pour over maps that she’d picked up from several DC train stations, as well some she’d printed of bus routes and stops.

“Lincoln, shut up.” Octavia scoffed, biting down on her red pen with a silent fury.

“We can take the train to New York, first.” Octavia mumbled. “Amtrak has departures every-”

“A train?” Lincoln inquired incredulously, smoothing a hand over his head. “Why not a car?”

Octavia sighed. “Because Bellamy will be watching for-”

Lincoln didn’t let her finish. “Octavia, my love…” he sighed, wincing as he stepped off the counter, watching her frown in disapproval. “Listen. Anywhere we go, he will go looking for you.”

Octavia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“We stay put.” Lincoln suggested, taking a breath to prepare for the onslaught he just knew was coming.

Octavia shot out of her chair indignantly, smoothing her hair back in exasperation. “And what? We just go back to normal and pretend I didn’t swear fealty to Lexa? Pretend that you aren’t at risk here?”

Lincoln nodded slowly. “I’m under Lexa’s protection, I-”

Octavia barked out a dry laugh. “Lexa’s protection?” She scoffed. “Linc, do you hear yourself?”

Lincoln bit his lip, letting Octavia empty it all out.

“Lincoln, look at what my monster of a fucking brother did to you!” Octavia roared. “Where was Lexa for that?”

Lincoln’s eyes narrowed. “That is not Lexa’s fault. This isn’t about Lexa, let’s stop pretending it is, Octavia.”

Octavia’s eyes burned with a cobalt fire. “Fine, let’s say it then. You won’t leave because your head is so far up Lexa’s ass, and I won’t leave without you!”

Lincoln flinched. He did owe his life, and everything he had, to Lexa’s parents, and he had taken an oath to protect her. But he would never endanger Octavia so selfishly. “Octavia, listen.”

“I’m listening.” Octavia folded her arms, and she did her little angry pout, and Lincoln had to resist the urge to kiss her right then and there.

“I will not separate you from your brother.” Lincoln spoke defiantly.

“He’s a motherfu-”

“I don’t care about what he did to me.” Lincoln spoke through gritted teeth. “I am endangering you. And while I don’t want to be apart from you, I-”

Octavia sighed, taking a step towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Lincoln.” She sighed, thumb stroking his cheek. “I…I’ve never felt this way. About anyone. You…I love you. You’re it, for me.” She murmured, and Lincoln took her hand, kissing it.

She was thankful that he was leaning against the counter, or she would have had a heart attack until he sat down. She’d already almost had a conniption when he tried so valiantly to get himself onto the counter using a single crutch and much willpower.

“Octavia, you’re the love of my life.” Lincoln murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “I want you to be safe, and happy.”

“Then run with me.” Octavia mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Lincoln’s arms wrapped around her. “Where would we go?”

“Far away.” Octavia murmured, leaning back to gaze into his warm, inviting eyes. “I want to forget this life.”

“What about Bellamy?” Lincoln whispered sadly, imagining a life where he’d be truly free to just live with Octavia. That wouldn’t be possible, so long as Bellamy was around.

Octavia looked guilty, and Lincoln realized that she’d thought about this before. His heart ached for her. “We tell a few people. Lexa. Clarke. Anya. Raven.”

His jaw dropped slightly. “Octavia, you can’t be suggesting-”

“I am.”

“But-”

“Lincoln!” Octavia sighed, all his attention back on her. “What if the only way to shed this life is to fake our own deaths?”

* * *

 

Clarke, absolutely and utterly spent after the shower, resorted to wearing one of Lexa’s shirts and shorts, even though she had pretty much her entire closet available to her.

Lexa, on the other hand, had changed into a sports bra and what appeared to be athletic leggings, and Clarke tried as hard as she could not to gape in awe.

“You have the energy to work out?” Clarke scoffed, hair damp and smelling of Lexa’s vanilla shampoo, sitting on the edge of Lexa’s bed, watching her change shamelessly.

After all, she had her excuse. She was an artist, and Lexa was art in the finest form.

Lexa cocked a brow at Clarke as she pulled up her tights with an amused smile. “Are you forgetting what it is that I do for a living?”

Clarke’s eyes traced over Lexa’s tattoos and she licked her lips subconsciously. “Nope.” She spoke, her throat suddenly dry. “But before you go all athletic on me, can we possibly get something to eat?” Clarke whined.

Lexa smiled up at her, nodding as she took a step forward. She tilted Clarke’s chin up to envelop her lips in a delicate kiss. Clarke hummed against her lips contentedly.

“Come on.” Lexa offered a soft hand to Clarke, who used it to rise lazily, still holding it as they made their way downstairs to the empty kitchen.

“I hope you can cook.” Clarke teased, leaning against her. “I went through med school on a ramen noodle diet.”

Lexa watched her amusedly, and Clarke had to wonder if Lexa ever ate anything so low-brow in her charmed existence. “Well…” Lexa sighed, turning as she picked up a shocked Clarke from her waist, setting her down on the granite counter before her.

Clarke let out a little laugh as Lexa stepped between her legs, arms still tight around Clarke’s waist.

“I will take care of everything, then.” Lexa promised in a soft murmur, just ecstatic from hearing Clarke’s laugh, from seeing her smile.

“Lex.” Clarke murmured, abashedly avoiding her gaze.

“Hmm?” Lexa hummed, watching as Clarke laced their fingers together endearingly.

“Can I ask you something?” Clarke asked softly, as if she were actually to say no.

“Always, my love.” Lexa replied with mild concern, eyes trying to find Clarke’s gaze.

“I just…I mean, I know this isn’t really important, but…” Clarke stumbled over her words, and Lexa gave her hand a squeeze, accompanied by a soft smile.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was soft, welcoming, just like her embrace. “It’s alright.”

“What are we?” Clarke blurted out. “Wait, no, sorry- That came out wrong. I mean, are we…dating? Is this exclusive? I know we kind of just confessed our love for each other but you’re…well, you. And Commander Lexa doesn’t seem like she’d want just one-”

Lexa let out an amused chuckle, effectively silencing Clarke in the process. “We didn’t exactly do things in order, did we?”

Clarke felt more comfortable to smile back, then. “No..” she agreed silently.

“Well, Clarke…” Lexa began with a breath. “Might I make it abundantly clear that…I’m so in love with you that it hurts.” Lexa’s words left Clarke with a soft expression and a tender look in her eye. “I…I don’t want to make any assumptions about what you’re comfortable with, or how you feel, but…If it’s anything like I do, I don’t think the words “girlfriend” or “dating” could even begin to cover it.” She murmured, watching Clarke’s eyes finally lift to meet hers with a shocked glance.

Lexa leaned forward and Clarke met her lips in a nearly bruising kiss, her hands finding their way around Lexa’s neck, pulling her closer with a desperate groan.

“So…” Clarke mumbled as she pressed a kiss to Lexa’s jaw. “We’re on the same page, then.”

Lexa nodded, closing her eyes briefly, breathing in the sweet scent of Clarke’s perfume. Leaning forward, she cupped Clarke’s cheeks, tenderly taking her lips into her own, melting into the sweet taste of Clarke.

“Just so we’re clear.” Lexa mumbled, her lips trailing to Clarke’s neck. “Exclusivity was never in question, for me, anyway.” She ran her lips over a tender spot and then bit down ever so gently, eliciting a moan of pleasure from Clarke. She kissed the sore spot gently, murmuring, “I’m not really one for sharing.”

Clarke was about ready to faint. Instead, she dragged Lexa’s chin up, smiling in ecstasy. “I love you, Lexa.” She reminded softly, as if it weren’t the most obvious notion in the world, based on her expression alone.

Lexa couldn’t help the warmth that radiated throughout her body. “I think it’s safe to say you’re the love of my life.” She responded in kind, and the two simply held each other like that for a moment in time, their shared warmth an added bonus.

“Now…” Lexa murmured, taking a step back. “About breakfast.”

Clarke frowned at the momentary loss before smirking.

“What?” Lexa asked, just as amused at her expression.

“Nothing, it’s just…” Clarke began with a smug look. “I get the privilege of seeing domestic Alexandria Woods.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “Clarke, first of all, I’ll have you know- no one ever calls me Alexandria.”

“Lover’s privilege?” Clarke grinned.

“I suppose.” Lexa smiled, allowing Clarke to peck her cheek.

“And secondly?” Clarke prompted.

“Secondly…” Lexa straightened up, and Clarke got a good look at her washboard abs, feeling heat flush over her once more. “I’m a soldier. A gangster. A trained killer.” She glanced at Clarke with a feigned air of offense. “I don’t do ‘domestic’.” She paused for a moment, glancing at Clarke’s pout and smiling eyes. “…Until now, I suppose.” She added with a sigh, hiding her smile when Clarke blushed with satisfaction.

Clarke leaned back onto her hands, watching as Lexa reached for a pan, then opened the fridge, making a face at her selections. “I actually didn’t expect company.” She admitted with a look of self-contempt.

“Oh, so getting me in bed was just a coincidence?” Clarke teased, wiggling her brows.

“Yes, actually. I prefer to wine and dine my…company.” Lexa replied airily, teasing right back as she brandished two eggs from the refrigerator.

“Well…what do you normally eat?” Clarke asked curiously.

“A shake, after I work out. A salad for lunch, maybe a light dinner of some sort of protein and vegetables.” Lexa shrugged, reaching for a cutting board.

Clarke made a face. “Aww, I knew your beauty came at a price.” She clicked her tongue.

Lexa just smirked back at her. “I’ll be sure to buy some cookies next time I’m out.”

Clarke’s cheeks reddened as she watched Lexa melt a little slice of butter into the pan. “Oh, so I’m staying here now? That’s some confidence you have there.”

Lexa froze, whipping around. “Oh. No, Clarke, I wasn’t insinuating…It’s just, it’s not safe, and I-”

Clarke laughed a deep, throaty laugh that made Lexa weak at the knees. “Lex, relax, I’m kidding. To be honest, I don’t think I ever want to be away again.”

Lexa’s smile warmed Clarke’s heart as she lost her apologetic face and instead wore one of adoration. “Me too.” She murmured, turning back to her work.

A calm silence fell over the two as Clarke checked her messages, noting that Octavia called her but didn’t leave a message, meaning it wasn’t urgent. Raven was still nowhere to be found.

Clarke watched as Lexa crafted an omelet for her, taking care to present it with a garnish on the plate.

“I met Aden.” Clarke blurted out, watching as Lexa froze, plate in hand.

“Aden?” She asked cautiously, concern in her eyes. “My…neighbor?”

“Your best friend.” Clarke corrected. “He told me so. I thought I had that position locked down. Aside from Anya of course, but…I can’t beat that.”

Lexa smiled for a brief moment. “You do, Clarke.” She answered sweetly, before her face turned to one of confusion. “How…exactly did you meet him? Was he alright?”

“Kicked a soccer ball that almost took my head off.” Clarke replied with a smirk, hopping off the counter to accept her plate from Lexa, rewarding her with a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, this looks amazing…”

Lexa still looked amused, her arms folded over her chest. “You discussed me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t be so egotistical, Ms. Woods.” Clarke replied with a smile, taking them both back to their first day as CEO and employee.

“Dr. Griffin, I know you know something.” Lexa smirked, watching her take a seat at the table. “I happen to be good with…interrogations.”

Clarke smiled after a blissful bite. “Fine. I asked about you.” She shrugged. “Apparently you were quite the hot-shot babysitter.”

Lexa nodded, her smile fading into a memory, leaning back. “That was a long time ago.”

Clarke sighed, glancing up at her. “I want you to be as…free as you were back then.”

Lexa eyed her with sympathy. “That was before I had responsibilities, Clarke.”

“Like the company?” Clarke asked softly.

“Like protecting you.” Lexa responded with conviction.

“I’m safe, Lexa.” Clarke assured with a little smile. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“I almost lost you.” Lexa glanced down. “I’m dangerous, Clarke. What you’ve gotten yourself into…This entire fight…”

“Lexa.” Clarke glanced up at her. “I’m fine. And you’re fine. And things will stay that way, alright? We just need to keep level heads, and think this through.”

Lexa nodded, desperately wanting to believe in the merit of Clarke’s words, the possibility behind them. “I should get back to work.”

Clarke frowned. “You will, and you know I’ll be right there with you. But today, just…relax. Indra and Titus are coming home tonight, right?”

Lexa gave her an affirmative nod, a tiny pout on her lips.

Clarke chuckled. “So let’s just enjoy our last day in relative privacy.”

Lexa laughed at that, giving Clarke a little smile. “I think I’ll be in the gym. Feel free to join me there.”

“Not the kind of exercise I had in mind.” Clarke grumbled, cutting off another bite.

Lexa winked at her and turned away, leaving Clarke to shamelessly stare.

* * *

 

Lexa was doing pushups in perfect form when Clarke came in, leaning against the doorframe in silent awe at the way her muscles tensed and released as she came up and down, again and again.

Lexa, though facing the ground, likely heard Clarke wandering over from miles away. She paused for a moment, turning her head. “You can come in Clarke.” Her voice was unstrained, clearly unbothered by the physical labor.

Clarke smirked. “No, I think I like the view better from over here.”

“Weren’t you shy at some point, Dr. Griffin?” Lexa teased, resuming her pushups as Clarke came to sit against the wall, by Lexa, eyeing the brightly lit room with several workout machines, the only one of which Clarke even recognized was a treadmill.

“Yeah, but that was before you did that thing with your-” Clarke paused when her phone buzzed.

Lexa tried not to smirk.

“It’s Raven.” Clarke mumbled, glancing at the texts. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of her for a while.”

Lexa stopped, sitting on her knees for a thirty-second break. “I’ve heard a little from Anya. It seems they’re occupied.”

Clarke lifted a brow in surprise. “Wait. You mean…Like, together?”

Lexa shrugged. “We’ve been a bit busy ourselves, Clarke. I know as much as you.”

“We should see them.” Clarke murmured, in thought. “I want to make things better, between us.”

“Your intentions were pure, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, rising. “She knows that.”

“I hope so.” Clarke sighed, watching as Lexa moved over to stretch a little. “Can I ask you something?”

Lexa nodded, eyes taking in Clarke’s beauty with a glimmer of interest.

“You knew Bellamy in school. Right?” Clarke asked shyly.

“Mhmm.” Lexa nodded, glancing at the heavyweight bag in the corner of the room. Clarke noticed her eyeing a couple of pairs of gloves on a chair nearby. No wonder Lexa had such a pristine figure, the girl was a die-hard athlete.

“Can I just…can you tell me what that was like?” Clarke asked, pleading in her tone.

Lexa paused for a moment, and Clarke thought she’d said the wrong thing, until Lexa padded over to the gloves, tossing a pair to Clarke. “Sure.” She challenged. “If you work out with me.”

Clarke paled for a moment. “Me?” She replied unsurely. “Lex, you’d beat my ass-”

Lexa’s expression softened. “Clarke, I would never hurt you.” She offered Clarke a smile. “I just…the way you struck Costia…”

Clarke blushed and Lexa pressed on. “I see potential in you, Dr. Griffin.”

“Alright, fine. But only because I want to hear your story.” Clarke grumbled, flattered as she donned the gloves.

Lexa didn’t bother wearing hers, motioning for Clarke to come over. “Okay, loosen up.” She ordered, her hands sliding down Clarke’s shoulders.

“Lexa, I can do a lot of things for you, but loosening up while you’re touching me isn’t on that list.” Clarke mumbled, watching as Lexa chuckled and gave her shoulders a little rub. “Now, feet apart slightly…” She instructed, nudging Clarke’s leg with her knee. “Perfect.” She murmured, coming behind Clarke, taking her arms up.

Clarke got shivers, and Lexa pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder. “What am I hitting?” Clarke mumbled, clearly distracted.

“The bag.” Lexa replied. “So you’re going to pull back like this, and then-” she demonstrated, pulling Clarke’s arms as she went. “And remember, thumbs out. You don’t want them in the fist, they’re liable to break.”

Clarke winced at the thought, and then punched the bag in a swift motion, watching it rock slightly off it’s hefty chain.

“Good.” Lexa praised Clarke.

“Good?” Clarke scoffed. “Lexa, it barely moved. If that were Gustus, it probably would have tickled.”

Lexa grinned. “Practice, my love.”

Clarke swooned at the nickname. “Well, have I at least earned a little bit of story time?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, grabbing her own pair of gloves. “Sure. Hold the bag, and don’t hold it in front of your face.” She instructed, and Clarke didn’t want to admit how much it turned her on to see Lexa’s commanding side, when it wasn’t angry.

“So, Bellamy…” Clarke drawled.

Lexa delivered a punch to the bag that nearly startled Clarke. Perhaps this was a sore subject.

“We were seventeen, eighteen…” Lexa muttered, her focus going into pulverizing the bag while Clarke held on for dear life, thoroughly impressed at the same time. “I was…Well, I thought I was in love.”

Lexa didn’t look up; she couldn’t meet Clarke’s eyes. Instead she focused on drilling into the bag with several uppercut styled strikes.

“With Costia?” Clarke’s voice was weaker than she’d intended.

“Yes.” Lexa’s voice was raw, and Clarke felt terrible.

“Lexa, we don’t have to talk about it.” Clarke murmured, releasing the bag as she caught Lexa’s hand.

Lexa blinked, breathing hard. “Clarke, it’s fine. It happened a while ago.”

Before Clarke could continue, Lexa was finishing her thought. “Costia and I had been dating for almost two years. I was young, foolish…I cared for her, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Bellamy Blake was a friend.” Lexa spoke softly. “Our families were at odds, both committing…atrocities.” She shook her head, turning her attention back to the bag. “But we thought that we were the new generation. The better generation.”

“So you got along.” Clarke added gently.

“We did. Bellamy and I were close enough, at some point. We spoke of how we’d make peace, at least with each other, expand our parents’ empires without harming one another.”

Clarke looked surprised. “What happened?” She murmured.

“I don’t know. We graduated. I joined up, Costia said she’d be right here, waiting for me…” Lexa responded through gritted teeth. “Bellamy’s father, Robert, was sick.”

Clarke nodded, remembering that period of their toxic family environment. “Right…He died and left Aurora raising the three of us.”

Lexa was winding punch after punch into the bag, and Clarke was genuinely concerned.

“Apparently the grief overtook her.” Clarke murmured. “I remember not being home from med school, with Octavia….”

Lexa froze, realizing that none of this was easy for Clarke, either.

“We got a call.” Clarke mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose, as if it physically hurt her to remember. “Apparently she… couldn’t handle life without him. She…She…”

“And of course, Bellamy didn’t buy that. Who wants to believe their own parent abandoned them? He lost it, Clarke.” Lexa growled, turning around, slamming her fist into the bag.

“He’d blamed your parents ever since.” Clarke nodded, taking a breath. “But…what about Costia?”

“I came home.” Lexa answered. “Maybe three years ago. I came home, and she was here, just like she said she’d be. But…she was acting strange. I didn’t think anything of it, she just…” Lexa blew out a breath, and Clarke wanted nothing more than to embrace her. “I don’t know. Then my parents…” Lexa let out a shaky breath. “They always took a retreat, a break from work, annually. It was November, the northern roads were icy…I don’t buy it. I never did. My father was careful. But…I was the only person who knew where they went.” She bit her lip. “Costia left me one week after.”

Clarke’s breathing was ragged as she felt her eyes water for Lexa. She dropped her gloves, forgetting all about herself as she launched herself into Lexa, hugging her. Lexa seemed stunned for a moment, before returning the embrace.

“It’s fine, Clarke.” She murmured in Clarke’s ear.

“I’m so sorry.” Clarke whispered, rubbing her back. “I’m here, now…”

“I know.” Lexa nodded against her, and it struck her that Clarke really was all she had left at that level of intimacy. And she’d fight like hell to keep her.

“How could anyone ever desert you like that?” Clarke muttered, anger seeping into her tone.

Lexa knew she was referring to Costia, and her apparent betrayal.

Clarke stepped back slightly so she could glance into Lexa’s emerald gaze. “I’m sorry.” She sighed once more, surprised when Lexa pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t be. It brought you to me, in the end.” Lexa’s words resonated within Clarke as she felt her heart hammer dangerously in her chest.

“I just…” Clarke sighed. “You deserve to be happy, Lexa.”

Lexa melted into Clarke’s kisses, exercise long forgotten.

“Can I surprise you with something?” Clarke asked suddenly.

Lexa glanced up at her with a look of surprise herself. “Does it entail you leaving?”

“It does, but only for a few minutes.” Clarke replied, coaxing Lexa with kisses to her collarbone.

“You’re not helping your case.” Lexa mumbled breathily.

“Okay, so…You just…” Clarke motioned to the punching bag. “Do your thing, and take a shower, and by the time you’re done, I’ll be back.”

Lexa lifted a brow questioningly. “Clarke?”

“I will be fine, Commander.” Clarke teased, earning her an eye roll. “I promise.”

“I’m trusting you.” Lexa mumbled when Clarke gave her a kiss, taking a step backwards.

“Love you!” Clarke called, hurrying out of the gym with a wicked smile.

Lexa watched her leave breathlessly, leaning against the bag for support.

How quickly her bleak life had changed with the entrance of the radiant Clarke Griffin.

She whipped around when she heard soft buzzing. She glanced at her phone in surprise.

Lincoln was calling her.

* * *

 

Lexa’s shower was spent with her mostly worrying about what she’d just heard over the phone.

So Lincoln and Octavia were choosing to run. From their fight, from Bellamy, from all of it.

Lexa wasn’t angry. She couldn’t expect them to stay and risk their potentially happy ending together. She’d seen what Bellamy was capable of.

She promised that she’d meet them one last time to help arrange a safe escape for the young couple.

She owed Lincoln that much, what with all the suffering he’d endured for her family.

She allowed the steam to pour around her as she closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the clean glass of the shower wall, wishing none of it had ever happened.

Because now, she was left with an ultimatum.

She knew she had to put Clarke on that train with them somehow.

She knew Bellamy was going to strike.

She knew that death, for him, or herself, or both, was inevitable.

But she couldn’t convince Clarke to leave her. Clarke would never have it. Clarke would sooner die at her side.

Lexa’s head was pounding. So Lincoln and Octavia wanted to end their current lives and begin anew? Under different names, in different cities, away from the bloodlust that gripped the DC air, tainting it crimson night in and night out.

Lexa shut off the water with a sigh, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around her.

She wondered what running away with Clarke would have been like.

Waking up beside her every day, doing anything Clarke wanted, because she died for her smile alone. Listening to Clarke’s laugh and her childhood stories. Making love to her and stealing kisses because she adored the way Clarke’s cheeks got rosy even still.

Lexa stepped out, drying herself off with a heavy heart.

She could do it. She could end things, eliminate Bellamy, and leave someone else in charge. She had the funds. She had the skills to keep Clarke safe and happy, wherever they were.

But could Clarke love her still? Even after she slayed Bellamy?

She knew that Clarke would. But it pained her to even think about causing pain to Clarke’s heart like that. Ripping to shreds what little family she had left.

Lexa had busied herself, changed and drying off her damp hair, when she heard a gasp from downstairs, and then a scream. She glanced at her clock, realizing Clarke had been gone for an hour and twenty-minutes.

Clarke was home.

Lexa was down in seconds, body unable to do anything but carry her to where she’d heard Clarke’s scream.

“Clarke?!” Lexa cried out, feeling particularly empty without her gun in hand. She’d left it in her nightstand upon Clarke’s request, not wanting to make her feel uneasy after her run-in with Costia’s poor aim.

“Shh!” A whisper hissed from behind her, and Lexa whipped around to see Clarke crouching, a shiny yellow Nerf pistol in  hand, coming behind Lexa, whose eyes were wide with confusion.

“Clarke?” Lexa questioned, body stilling as she appeared to be perfectly fine. “What are you-”

“Found you!” Aden roared, rounding the corner with his own toy pistol, firing it at Clarke’s torso, which was now hidden behind Lexa.

Lexa tensed, instincts causing her to whip around as she caught the relatively slow flying dart between nimble fingers. “Aden?” She gaped.

“My savior.” Clarke quipped stealing a kiss from Lexa’s cheek before smirking at Aden.

“No fair!” Aden grinned. “Lexa isn’t allowed to have a gun when we play.”

Lexa’s smile was bright and before she knew it, the boy had launched himself into her arms, hugging her like he used to before she’d gone off to enlist.

“You’re home! I never see you anymore!” Aden whined.

Clarke grinned at the sight, leaning against the wall by the stairs as she watched Lexa, the notorious gangster, all muscles and guns and tattoos, bend over to kiss her favorite little neighbor boy on the forehead, like he was her little brother.

It was the most heartwarming thing Clarke had ever seen in her life.

“I have a little thing called work.” Lexa quipped with a smile. “And you’ve gotten so big, I don’t think you need a sitter anymore.”

Aden puffed out his chest proudly. “I don’t. Now we can just be friends.”

Lexa laughed at that, eyes taking in the slim blonde boy with great amusement. “I’m happy to have you.” She ruffled his hair.

“I brought my soccer ball.” Aden smirked. “Do you still know how to play?”

Clarke snorted. Here he was, a completely oblivious ten-year-old, challenging this kingpin to her face.

It was oddly satisfying.

“Are you forgetting who taught you?” Lexa fired back, a smirk on her features.

Aden grinned, scrambling over to his bag, which he’d haphazardly left by the door, perhaps the only thing misplaced in the house.

Lexa turned to Clarke, her features softening entirely.

For a moment, she allowed herself to get lost in Clarke’s eyes, her smile, and the warmth of Aden’s presence. She envisioned life with Clarke. Maybe even a family similar to this, some day. She took a step forward, and Clarke gave her a quick peck, not wanting to escalate into anything more in front of the boy.

“I love you.” Lexa murmured, her voice unable to convey the intensity of her feelings for Clarke in that moment.

 And for once, she allowed herself to enjoy the calm before the storm.

The storm that they were direly unprepared for.

* * *

 

Clarke had spent hours watching Lexa and Aden play everything from chess, to nerf wars, to soccer. She was infatuated with Lexa and her charisma, her ability to handle him so carefully and delicately, as if she weren’t one of the most dangerous people in the city.

Clarke swooned when Lexa would stop and put a hand on Aden’s shoulder and patiently explain something to him, or ask him about school and his friends, as if no time had passed at all.

And now, she felt simply amazed watching Lexa battle him out on their makeshift soccer field.

“Hey hey, you can’t do that!” Lexa laughed as Aden looked to Clarke, the unofficial referee, who sat under a great oak tree, watching the two scamper around on Lexa’s expansive yard.

Clarke made a face. “Hmm…No, I think Aden’s point is valid.” She smirked when she saw Lexa roll her eyes.

“Ha! I win!” Aden grinned, beating his chest like he’d seen so many soccer stars do on TV, high fiving Clarke as she rose to accompany them back to the house.

Lexa, who hadn’t even broken a sweat, winked at Clarke, offering her hand to her as she helped her up.

“So you support cheaters.” Lexa tsked, and Clarke grinned.

“Can I make it up to you later, Ms. Woods?” Clarke whispered with a smirk, earning a nod from Lexa as she led her into the house, where Aden was packing up dejectedly.

“Sorry buddy.” Lexa murmured, kneeling to give him a hug. “If it weren’t a school night, I’d let you stay over like you used to.”

Clarke’s heart ached when Aden hugged her tightly, murmuring, “Are you gonna be around more?”

Lexa took a breath, glancing at Clarke. “Not…just yet. But soon. I promise, once…work quiets down. We’ll have time for these things. Okay?”

Aden nodded, likely completely unaware of what Lexa’s work entailed. “I gotta go before my mom gets mad. She says hi.”

Lexa nodded, standing up. “Tell her I say hello, too.”

Aden hoisted his bag, kicking his ball out the door. He turned to Clarke and quickly hurried over to give her a hug. “Thanks for playing with me.” He smiled before heading out, chasing his ball with expertly placed kicks.

Lexa closed the door, watching the dusky sky tinge everything with a pinkish orange glow that rapidly darkened. She sighed, leaning against the door, facing Clarke. “So, how do I thank you?” Lexa drawled, watching Clarke smile.

She felt a pang of guilt in her chest, knowing that she had to bring up Lincoln and Octavia at some point.

She couldn’t. Not yet. Not while Clarke was looking at her like she put the stars in the sky.

“Well, you could ask me on a first date.” Clarke quipped with a smirk.

Lexa raised a brow curiously. “Haven’t we passed that point?” She teased.

“Well, no.” Clarke shrugged with an innocent smile. “Techincally-”

“Fine.” Lexa huffed, straightening up. “Clarke, would you like to have dinner with me? In, say…five minutes?” She feigned a look of uncertainty.

“Well…” Clarke looked thoughtful. “I think that sounds great.” She smiled, stepping into Lexa’s open arms, allowing herself to relax into Lexa’s protective grip.

“Or.” Lexa murmured in her ear. “We could just skip dinner and I could have you for dessert.”

Clarke immediately stiffened, chills shooting through her. She glanced up at Lexa, kissing her softly. “Nice try.” She teased. “But no. I want to be, how did you put it earlier…. ‘wined and dined’ by Alexandria Woods.”

Lexa chuckled, kissing Clarke’s forehead. “Thank you.” She murmured suddenly.

Clarke blinked. “For what? Aden?”

Lexa sighed contentedly, running her hands through Clarke’s blonde locks. “For everything.”

It almost sounded as if it were a goodbye.

“Of course.” Clarke replied as if it were the easiest thing in the world, pulling herself from Lexa’s grasp. “I have to go get ready for our date.” She winked, turning for the stairs.

“I’ll figure something out for dinner.” Lexa offered her a small smile, heading for the kitchen.

Lexa watched Clarke disappear, smile on her face despite what she had to tell Clarke. She knew that they’d work it out, one way or another. She made her way to the kitchen, watching the evening stars emerge from the darkened velvet of the night sky. She began brandishing a few essentials, like knives and dishes, as she heard the front door unlock.

“Lexa!” Indra’s voice echoed. “We’re back.”

Lexa called out. “I’m in the kitchen!”

Indra entered, her arms folded, a smirk on her face.

“What?” Lexa smiled, turning away from the sink for a moment, where she’d been tending to some vegetables.

“You’re very much in love.” Indra commented wryly.

Lexa blushed slightly. Indra was never so forward. “What makes you say that?” She demanded.

“You’re glowing.” Indra shrugged, smirk never fading.

“Shut up, Indra.” Was Lexa’s articulate response. “Where’s Titus?” She added after a beat, smile slowly fading from her features.

Indra wheeled around, looking perplexed. “He was with me a moment ago.” She muttered, wondering why he hadn’t presented himself to Lexa like he respectfully would have.

Then it happened.

Lexa heard it first. It was the unmistakable sound of wheels on the cobblestone driveway. It sounded like a cavalry of cars, too many to be just one.

Then the lights were out.

In the pitch black darkness, Lexa’s eyes widened as her heart began beating frantically. She whipped around, yanking out the butcher knife from the stand, holding it expertly in her hands as she felt horror grip her.

Indra tensed, drawing her favored pistol from the holster on her hip as she took in her surroundings, hands searching for Lexa protectively.

“Not me.” Lexa hissed, motioning up with her finger. “Protect Clarke!”

Clarke’s scream from upstairs, much more real than earlier, filled the silence that had crept over the house, as a loud bang erupted.

“Clarke!” Lexa’s eyes caught shadow-like figures moving hurriedly in the darkness right outside the doors.

And then all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this twist brings us towards the home stretch. Thank you all for reading and leaving such kind kudos/comments, I really appreciate them all! Apologies for the delays and late responses, it's been a very hectic few weeks. 
> 
> Fake dating AU updated: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439/
> 
> I'm at effortlessly-opulent on tumblr if you'd like to come and say hi. I'm co-writing an HSAU that isn't out yet, but AU/textposts can be found @: clexa-hsau on tumblr as well! 
> 
> See you all (hopefully on sunday, and if not, in one week ;)


	21. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa goes to great lengths for Clarke before she realizes it's too late.

_“You’re my whole world, Clarke.” Lexa breathed, lips trailing down her neck._

_Clarke couldn’t believe how light and happy she felt. They laid like that in Lexa’s bed for hours, Clarke tightly in her embrace as Lexa kept pressing kisses to her girlfriend’s soft skin, whispering how much she loved her, over and over again._

_“Would it be so bad?” Clarke mumbled, leaning back into Lexa’s embrace._

_“What, baby?” Lexa asked softly, her fingers rubbing soft circles into Clarke’s bare back._

_“Running away.” Clarke sighed in contentment, swooning at the names Lexa gave her in the heat of their passion. “Just you, and me, and a lot of time to spend…loving each other.” Clarke hummed softly as Lexa brought one of her hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers, absolutely worshipping her in every sense of the word._

_Lexa was silent, for a moment, and Clarke feared that she had her answer. Duty over love. So that was Lexa’s outlook. It should have hurt, but it didn’t. For some reason, Clarke accepted it. It was as if she even loved Lexa more for caring so much._

_And then Lexa murmured, “Clarke.” Her name was a prayer on the barely older girl’s full lips._

_Clarke turned in her lap to face her, and Lexa’s arms went around her protectively._

_“One day, I will owe nothing more to my people. I swear it.” She whispered._

_“I know.” Clarke nodded, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. “I don’t care. I’m here. You and I…we’re together. That’s all that matters.”_

_Lexa nodded slowly, worry in her eyes. “I have to protect you, Clarke.”_

_Clarke frowned. “No, Lexa, you don’t. I just want you to love me.” She whispered, leaning forward, her bare body brushing against Lexa’s as she pulled her into a tender kiss._

_“I do.” Lexa whispered. “God, Clarke, I do.”_

Clarke’s vision went dark with the lights, and she could no longer reminisce while staring at the empty bed in Lexa’s bedroom, suddenly finding herself in a pitch black hell.

Instinctively, Clarke knew what was happening.

She knew that this was a method of attack.

She’d heard the tires on the cobblestone towards the front of the house.

Bellamy finally broke the unspoken rules, the unofficially set boundaries of peace.

Clarke took a breath, still smelling faintly of Lexa’s perfume.

Lexa. The love of her life, her best friend, he world. Downstairs, under attack because of her. Bellamy went too far, this time. There was no redemption, no way for him to justify this.

Clarke blindly stumbled towards the nightstand, struggling to yank it open. She knew she only had seconds to act, to think clearly.

Lexa had left her primary piece, a 9mm pistol, in the nightstand, a reassurance to Clarke that she would be safe in her care. Clarke snatched it, feeling the cold steel weigh her entire grip down like she was the reaper who’d just wielded a scythe.

She heard the steps coming behind her. She hurriedly shoved the gun into the waistband of her pants, tucking her shirt in over it. She whipped around to face her aggressor, wishing that it was Lexa there to take her hand, to tell her she was alright.

It was Titus.

Clarke could make out his figure in the darkness, the silhouette of his shaven head, his arms wielding a small pistol of his own.

His hands were shaking.

Clarke could tell that he was nervous, inexperienced, and very afraid.

Hell, Clarke would be afraid if she were the one challenging Lexa Woods by threatening her lover’s life.

“Griffin.” Titus’ voice was a deep baritone, yet he was whispering, as if afraid of being caught. “If you do not make a scene, Ms. Woods doesn’t have to be hurt. Come quietly.” He motioned her forward, shaking hand beckoning her to him, the light from the window pooling at his features, paling his expression.

Clarke knew she had one clear moment to alert Lexa before it was all over.

“LEXA!” Clarke screamed, loud, earth-shatteringly, shrill.

She knew that Lexa heard. She knew that her message got across, and she knew that Lexa was now fully aware of the danger.

That was all she cared about.

Her own well-being was of no consequence. Lexa was everything.

Titus, with his shaky hands and unstable state, fired.

Luckily, Clarke had been expecting this as she dove to the side, quickly scrambling to the floor, ears deafened by the gunshot itself, and then the ricocheting of the bullet as it surely left a hole in Lexa’s bedroom wall.

And then shots rang out from everywhere in the house.

Clarke’s body pumped adrenaline and before she knew it, she had no idea what she was doing, merely running past Titus, barreling past him as she dove for the stairs, falling but quickly scrambling to get back up, to stupidly make her way downstairs, where the gunfire was tearing Lexa’s house.

“Hey!” Titus roared after her, desperate to complete his one task with a shred of efficiency.

“Lexa!” Clarke ignored him, legs carrying her as fast as they could down the expansive staircase, towards the barrage of gunfire coming from the kitchen. She made it almost, barely into the entryway of the main foyer when she realized that they were so severely overrun by Bellamy’s forces, Clarke’s ex _friends._

“Woods, stay down, dammit!” Indra roared from her point behind the cover of the island, her pistol hot as she laid cover fire for Lexa to maneuver her way towards the stairs, desperate to get to Clarke.

“Lexa!” Clarke’s eyes widened, watching her weaponless, defenseless girlfriend crouching as bullets tore through the kitchen, courtesy of the Arkers on the other side of the now shattered windows.

“Clarke!” relief flooded Lexa’s features as she motioned for Clarke to stay down. “Clarke, stay there!” She ordered, every bit as commanding as she was before Clarke had softened her.

Clarke winced when Lexa attempted to rise, to make a run for Clarke, but was quickly forced back down by a hail of lead, raining her way from the gunfire.

Clarke’s eyes widened as she heard Titus clambering down the stairs just behind her, coming to finish what he came for.

Clarke sucked in a breath, knowing that there was only one way she could give Lexa a fighting chance.

The Arkers were advancing, now pushing past the broken window, entering the house in their masses.

Lexa was going to die if Clarke didn’t act, if she didn’t think as quickly as she could.

“I’m almost out!” Indra growled, eyeing her pistol with great disdain, as if she were willing it to become an RPG on the spot.

At least Indra wasn’t a traitor.

“Lexa!” Clarke called, immediately capturing her girlfriend’s attention from the other side of the kitchen.

Lexa’s emerald gaze widened with horror as Clarke brandished her pistol.

She could have used it to kill Titus. To take his life, and preserve her own, and condemn her to eternal damnation. But she didn’t, because her life simply wasn’t a priority anymore.

But Lexa? Lexa Woods was everything. Lexa was the reason Clarke woke up in the morning, and got sleep at night. Lexa was every gasp of air, every smile, every haphazard lock of hair tucked away between hushed whispers and declarations of love.

“I love you.” Clarke half-whispered, knowing full well that Lexa could read her lips.

She slid the gun across the buffed floor, watching as Lexa’s long fingers found the grip, handling it with solid experience.

She glanced back up, yanking Indra down as she fired off a few shots into her approaching group of aggressors.

Clarke was thankful that Lexa was far better off and well trained, compared to a group of hired guns, street-rats turned gangsters.

Lexa was a goddamned soldier.

Lexa fired, Indra by her side as the two worked side by side, absolutely massacring the forces Bellamy had no doubt ordered to kill her, or maim her at the very least.

There was blood.

So much blood.

Crimson and never ending, a tide that ebbed and flowed, viciously lapping at Lexa’s resolve.

Clarke was horrified, not for her own sake, but for Lexa’s. Lexa never wanted this. Lexa didn’t deserve this. Her soul was so pure, beautiful, sullied by Bellamy’s cantankerous advances.

“Shh.” Clarke felt a hand yank her from behind, slapping over her mouth, the barrel of a hot gun pressing into her back. “If you scream, you will distract her. She will die.” Titus’ voice seemed almost sorrowful, as if he still thought he had been protecting Lexa in some way. “Come quietly, Griffin.”

Clarke allowed tears to well in her eyes as she knew he was right.

In order to save Lexa, she had to come quietly with Titus.

“Alright.” Clarke hissed through his fingers clamped down over her mouth, the heat of the gun nearly branding her back. “Where are we-”

Clarke’s entire body went rigid when she felt an agonizingly sharp pain simply obliterate her thoughts, stemming from her head, the hot-white agony washing over her body like the blood Lexa was spilling, turned away from her.

And then everything was black, and Titus dragged her limp body out of the door, unnoticed by Lexa, who was fighting desperately for her own life, and Indra’s.

* * *

 

“Lexa.” Indra’s hand was on her shoulder, watching the young girl fire the last shot into the last remaining Arker, watching her fall to the floor, clutching her abdomen, just as Clarke had.

Lexa was shaking with rage, her entire body rigid.

“Alexandria.” Indra’s voice was deep, solemn, rousing her from her own despair.

“What?” Lexa demanded furiously, seemingly having reverted back to the stoic, uncaring killer she had been before Clarke entered her world.

Blood stained the entirety of the kitchen tiles. Lexa put a hand over her mouth, choking back a dry sob. Her body could not will tears fast enough. Her eyes scanned the bodies that littered the floor. Some looked to be her age, some older, like Gustus and Indra. Some looked maybe seventeen, eighteen at the most.

All dead. Lifeless. Never going to speak again, or smile upon visiting their parents. Never to get married, to have children, to know love in its purest form, like the kind Lexa had for Clarke.

Murdered, indirectly, by Bellamy Blake.

But by Lexa’s hand.

Lexa whipped around, and she just knew.

She knew Clarke was gone. She’d gambled, paying more attention to Indra’s immediate well-being than Clarke’s, for surely Indra would have died, but Clarke was to be taken alive.

She glanced at the spot where Clarke had been, what seemed like seconds ago, sliding the gun across the floor, effectively saving Lexa’s life. Enabling her to murder, to shed blood, even if it was in self-defense. It was as if Clarke had crowned Lexa to be the reaper, the angel of death, giving her wings and a blade.

“She’s gone.” Lexa shook her head, biting her lip so hard that she bled a little. Her entire body was shaking, the gun in her hand hot and unforgiving.

“Lexa.” Indra’s voice was calm, guiding.

So, as it turned out, Indra had always been the loyalist, and Titus the filthy traitor.

Lexa wondered how long this had been going on for. Lexa wondered why.

What she didn’t doubt, however, was how fucking torturously she was approach killing him, tearing him limb from limb for touching a single hair on Clarke’s head.

Clarke.

Lexa’s heart ached.

The love of her life. Her girlfriend. The woman she wanted to marry, to spend every day of the rest of her life with.

Clarke could have been lying somewhere in a ditch, dead and lifeless, because she’d been so careless. Clarke could have been forced to do unspeakable things by Bellamy, and likely Costia, the twisted souls that they were.

Lexa’s blood was boiling as she made a motion to step forward, willing herself to destroy anyone in her path,

And then she heard a cough, a choking noise.

Her emerald gaze sat on the victim, and realized that Indra was trying to get her attention because she’d intentionally left one alive.

Indra was always ruthless, and like Anya, dear to Lexa’s heart. Indra was family. Titus was supposed to be, too.

“This one is non-lethal.” Indra grumbled, watching as the man bled from his leg, clutching it as he gasped in agony, unable to talk.

Lexa’s eyes fell to his face and she recognized him almost immediately. So many nights ago, when Clarke had followed her into the rainy mist of the evening, Lexa had spared his life. And yet, here he was.

“Dax, is it?” Lexa’s voice was cold. Every shred of life, humanity, love, and warmth had faded with Clarke’s disappearance.

The Commander was back.

The man simply gasped, clutching his leg, blood pooling over the clothes he wore.

“Make sure he doesn’t bleed out. Keep him here.” Lexa growled, her jaw locking as she watched him writhe in pain.

“And for the pain?” Indra asked solemnly.

“Nothing.” Lexa whipped around, yanking her phone out. “Let him suffer, Indra.”

“Who are you calling?” Indra asked cautiously, making sure Dax had no weapons on his person.

“The police.” Lexa muttered, running a hand through her hair. 

Indra’s eyes went wide with surprise. She bit her lip, watching intently as Lexa left the crime scene.

She watched the woman walk out of the room. She watched Alexandria Woods, the little girl with a bounce in her step and a twinkle in her eye, leave. She watched Lexa, the Commander, cold, brutal, and unforgiving, take the mantle in her stead.

She watched Lexa die a little more internally with every step.

* * *

 

Raven planted kisses along Anya’s jaw, leaving little marks as her lips traced Anya’s skin with thorough determination, aching to explore more of the enigma of a woman she’d come to know.

So, their relationship wasn’t perfect. Sure, it was just beginning, and it was full of flaws, doubts, tensions…

But Anya was there, for Raven. Solid, concrete, unwavering in her perseverance to make Raven see that she wasn’t a monster, or some unfeeling machine, or a pawn in a greater game. She made Raven feel whole, and while there wasn’t a whole lot of talking between them yet, she was getting there.

They didn’t have to label it, or explain themselves. It was raw, freeing, and Raven couldn’t have been more grateful for Anya’s stoic affections.

“Mmm.” Anya hummed, smiling against Raven’s lips as the Latina straddled her, hands pinning Anya’s over her head. “Again?”

“Is that a complaint?” Raven teased, lips brushing her ear.

“Not from me.” Anya replied, hands tracing Raven’s bare back. “We have a lot of…healing to do, don’t we?”

Raven paused for a moment, bending her head to brush her lips against Anya’s, in a softer, sweeter tone than before. Immediately, Anya responded, feeling Raven’s thighs squeeze around her.

“We do.” Raven agreed, smirking against her as she began to trail her lips achingly slowly down Anya’s jaw, then her neck, reaching her chest as-

Anya’s phone rang from the side of her night stand, effectively stopping Raven dead in her tracks.

Anya heaved a sigh, and Raven frowned against her chest. “You really need to get that?” She mumbled.

“Unfortunately, Reyes, I do.” Anya growled at the thought of having to wait, apologetically reaching out, Raven still on top of her, answering on the third ring.

“Anya.” She muttered, knowing it couldn’t have been her boss, since Lexa was so infatuated and love-struck that she’d practically dropped off the face of the earth, save for the odd text every now and again.

“It’s Indra. We’ve got an issue. A fucking big one.” Indra’s voice was hushed, and desperate.

Raven, feeling Anya stiffen beneath her, frowned, rolling off, trying to listen in.

“What do you mean?” Anya demanded, sitting up. “Is it Woods? Is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine.”

“Griffin, then?” Anya demanded.

Silence met her momentarily, and she wasn’t patient enough to wait.

Raven’s eyes widened at the mentioning of Clarke.

“Indra, is Clarke okay?” Anya demanded, knowing how distraught Lexa would be if anything happened to her girlfriend.

“No.” Indra admitted quietly. “Well, I don’t know. Titus kidnapped her, for Bellamy. He sent maybe…ten of his people to try and finish Lexa.”

Anya’s breath caught in her throat. “Fuck.” She breathed, and Raven’s worried look only intensified. “No, no….” She shook her head. “What happened?”

“Lexa lost it.” Indra hissed. “Anya, she killed them all.”

“She had no choice!” Anya snapped. “They were in her home, attacking her-”

“I know.” Indra sighed, shaking her head. “It’s a goddamn cemetery in here.”

“And what about Lexa?” Anya asked, standing up, phone between her shoulder and cheek as she rushed to dress herself.

“She’s gone cold, numb.” Indra muttered. “Called the cops?”

“The police?” Anya’s brows shot up in disbelief. “She involved law enforcement? What the fuck for?”

Indra sighed heavily into the line. “She’s calling in the favor to end all favors. She’s using them to storm Blake’s office and recover Clarke.”

“On what charges?” Anya demanded. “Is she fucking insane? There are corpses in her damn house. What if they find out? Hell, what if they turn and arrest her?” Anya’s voice was growing antsy. “Where is she, Indra?”

“She’s on her way to Blake’s building.” Indra muttered.

“You didn’t stop her?”

“Anya, I have a live prisoner here. She wants answers.” Indra’s voice was actually terrified.

Anya’s eyes widened, and Raven looked at her with even greater concern. “No. Indra, she can’t do this. This is insane.”

“She’s already past that point, Anya.” Indra muttered. “That girl was her sanity.”

“I’ll stop her. Can you call Gustus and a few of the others? Nyko? Quint?  Lexa’s specialists.”

“I can.” Indra’s voice crackled on the other end of the receiver. “Where should I send them to?”

“The office. If I know Lexa, she’s going to stop there to load up. Tell them to be quick.”

“ _Ait. Leida_.” Indra hung up abruptly.

Raven, who’d busied herself with struggling to get her clothes on, turned Anya by the shoulders, eyes locking intensely with hers.

“What’s happening?” She demanded, eyes wide with fear.

“Reyes.” Anya murmured, sucking in a breath. “Stay here.”

Raven’s jaw set. “Don’t.” She warned. “You told me I wasn’t a pawn. You told me I mattered. Don’t you dare fucking leave me in the dark with this, Anya.”

Anya bit her lip. “They took Clarke.”

Raven’s jaw dropped. “Who?” She demanded fiercely, protectiveness for her friend seeping into her tone. “When? Where’s Lexa?”

“They stormed Lexa’s. Bellamy’s forces. Lexa and Indra survived. Clarke is gone.”

“Where?” Raven demanded, heart hammering. If Lexa couldn’t protect Clarke, then it was bad.

Bellamy really did have a death wish.

“We’re not sure. They’re starting at the Blake building.” Anya muttered.

“Then you need me. I know it inside and out.” Raven muttered, hustling to throw on her shirt.

“You’re a traitor.” Anya growled. “They won’t let you forget that, Reyes.”

“I don’t want to forget.” Raven whispered sullenly, eyes fixed on Anya’s. “I want Clarke back.”

“Raven.” Anya whispered, her expression softening. “There’s no shame in staying. This is too close to home, it’s your family.”

“They’re not my fucking family.” Raven spat. “Clarke is. Octavia is. You….” She couldn’t finish, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“You might come face to face with him.” Anya pressed on, and Raven knew she was referring to Bellamy. “And what then? What if you can’t do it?”

“Believe me.” Raven sighed. “I will.”

“Raven.” Anya whispered. “Don’t do this…”

Raven’s gaze darkened. “It’s already done, Anya.”

* * *

 

Lexa was greeted by just about every goddamn Grounder she knew when she wordlessly stormed into the front doors of her own building, which had closed exclusively for her personnel only, with watchful eyes on the streets for any impending attacks.

For years, their work had been discreet. It had been covert, under the table, with little to no heavy bloodshed.

But now? This was a ground war. And Lexa had the advantage of strength in numbers.

“Lexa.” Anya had been waiting by the side of the door, practically tackling Lexa when she walked in.

Lexa froze, her emerald gaze widening. “What is the meaning of this?” She hissed, eyes taking in everyone around her.

Reyes was leaning against the wall, nervously clenching and unclenching her fists.

Gustus was there, two black duffel bags in either hand, containing the contents of their makeshift armory. His eyes were dark, and Lexa knew he’d grown closer to Clarke over the span of the year.

“You can’t go alone.” Anya muttered, her hands on either one of Lexa’s shoulders, forcing eye contact. “I’m your second. I always have been. These people are yours to command, Lexa. Command them.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “No.” She muttered. “I’m taking this to the police. This ends now.”

“They’ll imprison you too.” Anya insisted. “You’re just as guilty, Lexa, there’s blood on your hands!” Anya hissed.

“So be it.” Lexa responded coldly, her entire body rigid as her people watched their commander damn herself.

“For Clarke?” Anya whispered.

“For Clarke, I’d slit my own throat.” Lexa responded numbly, trying to push past Anya.

“I’d expect no less from you.” Anya countered. “But we are here, Lexa. Why won’t you use us instead? Together, we’re strong.”

Lexa shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. “So much blood, Anya. So many dead. Not my people. I protect them, not throw them to the wolves.”

“Then have faith that we trained them well.” Anya growled, frustrated.

“These are the remnants of people who would have otherwise died on the streets. These aren’t soldiers, Anya. They’re gangsters.”

“They would die for you.”

“That’s the problem.”

Raven shook her head, pushing herself off the wall, limping forward. Anya’s eyes widened as she tried to warn her lover.

“Reyes, don’t-”

Raven pushed Lexa back, causing Lexa to stumble slightly, hardly close to falling down.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Raven growled, letting Anya restrain her as every Grounder bristled at someone hurting the commander.

Lexa’s eyes darkened, emerald turning black with frustration. “Get out of my way, Reyes.”

“Clarke could be dying because you’re here, caught up in your own pride, and your own ego!” Raven snapped.

Lexa’s jaw tightened as she felt her heart ache at the mere mention of Clarke’s name.

“You’re supposed to be a goddamned leader, not a lone wolf.” Raven scolded, derision pouring out of her words, slicing through Lexa’s faux calm demeanor like a knife. “Now, act like it.”

Lexa stiffened, and her mouth opened slightly in surprise when Anya turned around, addressing every single Grounder who’d gathered in the great expanse of the main lobby, eyes settling on Lexa with concern for their leader.

Lexa, who’d cared for them. Who’d taken them in. Who’d protected them both physically, and shielded them from their sentences with bails, with lawsuits, with blood.

Lexa, their commander.

“Em ste meija bilaik oso flou thru seintaim!” Anya called, and every ear was intent on hearing the words of their second in command.

_It’s important that we all work together._

Anya, who’d been there for each of them, especially Lexa, every step of the way.

Raven blinked in surprise when she heard various cheers of approval from the people.

Lexa sighed, her shoulders pushed back regally as she announced, to her eagerly waiting people. “Oso throu daun ogeda. Oso kik thru ogeda.”

_We fight together. We survive together._

These were her people, her strength, her life and blood. They were there for her when she needed them, and she was there for them when they needed her.

Nothing could break the bonds of true family.

Titus was never family. He was cold, calculating, a servant to her parents. A coward.

But these men and women who’d lined up there, who’d rallied behind her, who swore they’d spill blood, whether others’ or their own, for Lexa…they were her family.

And they were Clarke’s family.

They would not rest until Clarke was safely back in Lexa’s arms, where she belonged.

Lexa felt a pang in her heart for Lincoln, once her fiercest warrior, who would have been at her side, bowing to each and every word she said.

But he was safe. He was safe, and by now, likely far away with Octavia, living the dream she wished she’d had with Clarke.

She wished them the best.

“So.” Raven mumbled amidst the war cries of Lexa’s people, practically shaking the building. “We going, or not?”

* * *

 

It was a tactically sound plan.

One of Lexa’s people, an innocent looking younger girl, was to enter the building casually, to scope the area, to do a headcount and determine the threat, how many civilians there were.

She’d come back utterly confused, reporting to Lexa that the lobby was empty, and no one greeted her.

They’d split Lexa’s chosen force of about thirty particularly…talented individuals into two major sweeping forces, entering from the back stairwell, per Raven’s suggestion.

Lexa, ever the valiant soul, was leading the top team, her people heavily geared and armed, looking like some sort of special unit from a stereotypical action film. Lexa’s team was to search for Clarke in the top floors, likely crawling with Arkers.

Anya led the second team, Raven at her side, as they infiltrated the building through the back stairwell.

Lexa wasn’t exactly equipped with the finest tech for their impromptu rescue. In fact, she had nothing, save for her Bluetooth, which was only there if Anya or Indra direly needed her. Otherwise, both teams were going in blind, save for their plan to split the building. Lexa’s team would take the stairs, and ascend to Bellamy’s office, the highest point. Anya’s team was to descend towards the basement and lower areas, hoping that Clarke might have been held there.

And then it was a blur.

Lexa’s team moved first, entering the building in a sort of blitzkrieg of power, of shouts and threats, her people a bit unruly.

The entry level was completely barren, empty, their footsteps and shouts bouncing across unbelievably narrow halls and seemingly hallow walls.

“What the fuck.” Quint, one of Lexa’s better fighters, muttered from behind her. “Heda.” He shook his head. “This is a bad sign.”

Lexa nodded, slowly moving forward, gun drawn tensely as she warily made her way up, turning every sharp corner of the stairwell with an unprecedented anxiety.

Clarke was here.

Clarke was close.

But she couldn’t lose sight of the eminent danger she was leading her people into.

“Stay sharp.” She muttered, and the message carried its way to her group of fifteen, all of whom were anticipating a great blaze of a firefight.

The echoes of their footsteps pummeled Lexa’s eardrums as they rose increasingly, passing stories upon stories, not stopping until they reached the top. Lexa had a strong feeling that Bellamy’s office was where they’d be.

Raven also mentioned that they’d be practically broadcasted on Bellamy’s security camera set up, which had full coverage of the building’s vital areas, including the stairwell, for defensive purposes.

With every story passed, Lexa’s heart bled. She wanted to know that Clarke was safe, unharmed. Any relief she might have gotten, knowing that Bellamy would never hurt the woman he loved, was out the window.

And that was Lexa’s fault. Lexa’s fault for seemingly, in Bellamy’s eyes, claiming her.

Taking his love away. For loving her, touching her in ways he never could. For owning her.

Of course, Lexa knew none of that was true. Clarke wasn’t property. Clarke was a human being with wants, needs, feelings, and a beautiful mind and heart of gold.

Bellamy couldn’t understand anything past territoriality at that point.

“Heda.” Gustus, who’d been in the back of her group, stepped forward, shouldering his way to the front. “Whatever is waiting for us on the other side of that door can not be good.” He rumbled in his gravelly tone. “Allow me to take the vanguard, if you will.”

Lexa’s jaw set, and she wanted nothing more than to hug him. Gustus, who’d been there for her time and time again, who’d never questioned an order, who’d protected her with the ferocity of a vicious and loving father.

She shook her head solemnly. “ _Ai laik heda, Gostos_.” She murmured, readying her weapon, hand clenching the door handle that led to Bellamy’s floor, his hallways, his offices, as Raven had so briefly explained.

Gustus paused for a moment, gave her a nod and a curt grunt, and then stepped out of her way.

Lexa sucked in a breath, glanced at her people to make sure no one was off guard, and then threw the door open, stepping to the side to avoid the barrage of gunfire she was expecting.

It never came.

Lexa blinked, peering out from her cover to find yet another empty hallway.

Her stomach dropped.

She pressed forward at a now careless speed, slipping into the hallway with determination. “She has to be here.” She muttered, shaking her head. “She has to. Anya hasn’t called. She has to be up here.”

Her people diligently searched each room, while Lexa made a beeline for what was, presumably, Bellamy’s office, the largest one on the floor.

The door was swung wide open, revealing an empty office with several cases of scotch, a few awards on display, Bellamy’s coat jacket on the chair, and absolutely no sign of him, Clarke, or Costia.

“Fuck.” Lexa breathed, her lower lip quivering. “No. No….” She bit her lip to steady it, shaking her head. “Clarke…” She murmured, tears stinging in her eyes.

She’d noticed, with great disappointment, that her team hadn’t uttered a word, all freezing, motionless as they watched their commander with the greatest sorrow she’d ever seen them display.

Lexa surged forward, throwing her gun to the side as she frantically searched through Bellamy’s desk, practically throwing it apart as her eyes poured over every note. She noticed his computer was seemingly taken, and she cursed herself for thinking that he would be so stupid as to bring Clarke to the most obvious place.

She shook her head in disbelief. She’d run out of time.

God knew what he was doing to Clarke. She knew Clarke was strong, but she knew how unhinged Bellamy was. He knew of the lust and rage he held in his heart for her. She knew how worthy of an adversary he’d been ever since their time at the academy.

He’d planned this all along. He’d used Costia, weaponized her damn girlfriend against her. He’d somehow manipulated Titus into betraying his closest ally.

Oh, god, her parents had trusted Titus for so long. He was the only one who knew about where they were going, besides Lexa and perhaps Costia.

It was all starting to seem very clear.

But of course, none of that mattered if she couldn’t fucking find him.

Clarke was her priority.

And Clarke was long gone.

Clarke needed her, and she failed.

Lexa hadn’t realized how long she’d spent staring emptily at the picture of Clarke and Octavia that Bellamy had on his desk.

The frame was shattered by obvious trauma, a dividing crack running straight down Clarke’s body.

Just like when she’d first come to Lexa, Clarke was divided in two. Her heart, and her mind. Her love, and her loyalties. Her family, and Lexa.

And she’d chosen Lexa.

“Hey.” Lexa’s head shot up as Gustus put a large hand on her seemingly small shoulder. “Chek ai ou, Leksa.” _Look at me, Lexa._

Lexa felt a lump form in her throat, her balled fists shaking at her side.

Clarke.

Clarke’s bright, sunny smiles, her soft kisses. Her laugh, the way she laughed with her entire heart as she leaned into Lexa, giving her all she had. The way she’d deftly clean Lexa’s wounds while making some beautiful little joke about how hard it was to be a doctor, just to hear Lexa’s soft chuckle. The way she’d stuck by Lexa through the worst, torturous, turbulent times in their relationship.

Her _Clarke._

Gone. Taken. Dead.

“Yu gonplei nou ste odon.” Gustus’ baritone was softer than usual, his wisdom pouring out of his words like the blood Lexa was so ready to spill for Clarke. “We will find her.”

“How.” Lexa’s question was rhetorical, it was a statement of defeat. It was a choked sob, a cry for help, a plea.

She was only twenty-five. She was hardly old enough for the emotional trauma she’d underwent. For the physical battering she’d suffered through. For the moral journey that led her to the conclusion that she was unworthy of love, of Clarke.

“We go back.” He spoke quietly. “Indra and I will take care of the Arkers you’ve slain. Anya will help you. You are not alone.”

“Clear out!” Gustus bellowed, guiding Lexa, who stiffened in completely numbness, out of Bellamy’s vacant office.

They listened when they heard no objection from their utterly broken commander.

Lexa couldn’t save Clarke.

* * *

 

While Anya and Raven set about brainstorming downstairs, Gustus began “disposing” of the mess in Lexa’s kitchen, his expertise on the subject frightening to all.

Indra had moved Dax to the garage, where she’d chained him up and did little more than stop his wound from bleeding out, keeping him conscious for Lexa’s use.

And Lexa, the great and mighty commander of twelve gang factions, had officially broken. She’d practically dragged herself to her room. Their room, she corrected herself.

The room where Clarke had been, in the evening. She glanced at her clock, noting that it was just seven in the morning. She felt exhausted. Her heart was tired of beating, of forcing her to exist in a world so twisted and cruel as a world without Clarke Griffin.

She collapsed onto her bed, a teary mess, inhaling Clarke’s sweet scent from the pillow she’d slept on.

On the bed where Clarke and Lexa first made love. When Clarke had been so ready and eager, and Lexa had been so tender and overwhelmed by all the beauty and life that was Clarke Griffin.

The bed where, after so many rounds, Lexa had pulled Clarke closely, utterly spent, pressing the softest of kisses to her body, reminding her how much she loved her.

The bed where Clarke learned of Lexa’s tattoo, and Lexa had promised her that their ending would be better. But was it, after all? Were they just as star-crossed as they earth and the sky? The so called cataclysmic war had erupted around their love, and they fell victim to it, just as everyone else did.

Lexa could still feel Clarke’s lips ghosting her jaw.

She could still hear Clarke’s laughter as Aden climbed her back in an attempt to flee Lexa’s playful chasing.

She could hear Clarke whisper to Lexa, when she thought she was asleep, in the earliest hours of the day, murmuring, _“Lexa…” Just to see if Lexa was awake. And then she’d go on, in a blissful, whimsical sort of voice, “Lex…It’s all so…strange, right? I mean, one moment, we were forces against each other, and now, I can’t imagine life without you. God, I love you so much that it hurts. And I love every part of you. I’m in love with innocent Alexandria, who’s eighteen and likes jokes and is so tender, and loving, and shy. I’m in love with Lexa, who’s so sharp and romantic, and my best friend. And I’m in love with Heda, who does everything so selflessly and loves with all her heart. I love you so, so much.”_

And Lexa had smiled in her faux sleep, curling ever so tightly into Clarke’s warmth, knowing that there was no way that she could ever have been happier.

She clutched Clarke’s pillow to her chest for a moment, giving into her exhaustion for a mere handful of seconds, wishing she’d open her eyes to find Clarke’s blue gaze, a soft smile on her lips.

She opened her eyes and Clarke was gone.

She was still taken.

Lexa’s jaw set. Nothing would come from her wishing, her wanting helplessly.

She was supposed to be heda. Unaffected, cruel, and ruthless.

She’d lost Clarke by softening up, by letting her guard down. She wouldn’t let that happen again. No, when she found Clarke, she’d allow herself to love again.

Until then, she was going to do everything in her power to find Clarke, to bring her home safely, to smite Bellamy like the coward he was.

She put on a façade of complete and utter empathy and descended down the stairs.

Past Anya, who watched Lexa knowingly, concern in her gaze.

Past Raven, who’d leaned, just barely noticeably, into Anya’s embrace, giving Lexa a curt nod.

At least Raven knew of, and supported her motives.

She moved past the two watchmen Anya had posted by the front door, alert, dipping their heads in immediate respect, and sorrow, for the missing Wanheda.

When Lexa reached the garage, she found that it was empty, and Indra had dimmed the lights, closing every door, allowing damp darkness to creep over her and Dax, who’d been mercilessly tied up to the one post in the garage, mouth gagged to keep from causing a commotion or providing Indra with unnecessary information until she was ready.

Lexa stepped in, and Indra shot an apologetic glance her way.

 “Thank you, Indra.” Lexa murmured, her tattooed biceps tightening as she reached out to the table where Titus had neatly arranged various power tools for the repairs to the house he’d prided himself on, as the official keeper.

Dax’s eyes widened as he saw Lexa, her eyes full of hate, malice.

“You.” Lexa murmured calmly, her eyes dancing with venomous intent as she kneeled in front of Dax. “I spared you once, from Lincoln and Gustus, didn’t I?”

He let out a strangled cry and Lexa tore the gag from his mouth. “Fuck you, Woods!” He spat. “Bellamy sent me because he knew I would die for family! Even for that fucking traitorous whore, Griffin.”

Lexa’s gaze darkened, and her jaw tightened as she struggled to restrain herself. Too much, and she’d kill him.

But Lexa was no novice to the ways of torture.

Indra watched silently from the back, shaking her head. He was asking for it.

“I’m going to ask you this once, and once only.” Lexa sighed, her thumb grazing the wound on his knee. “Where is Bellamy holding Clarke?”

Dax stared straight into her emerald gaze, chin up defiantly. “Go fuck yourself.” He growled.

Lexa smirked, as if she derived some sort of sick pleasure from watching his writhe in agony as she pressed her thumb down into his bullet wound, watching him scream. She removed her hand, watching as he took ragged breaths, his resolve dissipating.

Lexa rose, making her way over to the table of tools, holding up a wrench with a look of curiostity, holding it up to the faint light.

Dax winced visibly, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat.

“Indra…” Lexa’s voice was cold, icy, full of darkness. “Leave us.”

Dax’s eyes widened. Indra was the last thing keeping him alive. He began to shake, knowing that he had to speak, and yet, his loyalties were holding him back.

“Lexa…” Indra breathed doubtfully.

“Go.” Lexa licked her lips, her demand loud and abundantly clear.

Indra nodded, sorrow overtaking her features. “Don’t lose yourself.” She reminded, closing the door behind her.

Lexa turned to Dax, who’d paled considerably.

“Don’t do this.” Dax shook his head frantically. “Prove you’re not a bunch of savages.” He growled, as if it would help his case.

Lexa tsked, turning towards him, lip curling in disdain. “We are what we are.” She murmured, advancing as he let out a final, unheard cry for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Lexa's the commander for a reason, right? I'm always excited to hear your thoughts! (Apologies for the slow replies, finals have been handing my ass to me). 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with this, it's been a crazy world to dream up ;) 
> 
> Anyway, if you're in need of fluff and some happiness: 
> 
> Fake Dating AU: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6393439
> 
> Check out the Tumblr for our Clexa HSAU that's gonna be so lit: http://clexa-hsau.tumblr.com/
> 
> My tumblr: effortlessly-opulent.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope to see you all right back here on wednesday ;)


	22. A Little Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A death derails the entire rescue plan. 
> 
> *Chapter Warning- mention of torture and character death. I try to keep from going too far in depth with these scenes, but it's at the heart of the story*

 

The chill of the damp night filtered in through the windows as Clarke’s eyes cracked open, and a ridiculously painful, sharp pain struck her head. She forced her eyes to remain open despite how much her body protested. She felt hard metal beneath her.

She realized that she was bound and captive in the back of one of the vans that Bellamy and the Arkers used to transport shipments. She glanced down at her aching wrists, chained in cuffs, actual metal cuffs- Bellamy wasn’t taking any chances- and watched them bore into her wrists like her skin was paper.

She felt the all too familiar sensation of a gag in her mouth, likely some dirty cloth Titus had lying around. She tried to sit up, but felt the pain weigh her down. She had a concussion. She’d studied them, treated them, seen them time and time again. She needed to rest. She peered up, eyes finding Titus as the only one in the car, far at the front, driving frantically.

Clarke tried desperately to push at the the doors, seemingly welded shut before her.

Escape attempts were futility in its finest form.

Clarke felt her lids close, and she lashed out, desperately trying to speak, to scream, to cry, even.

Darkness enveloped her once more.

She dreamed of Lexa.

* * *

 

When Clarke woke the second time, she was met by the freezing air of the very early morning, sending shivers up and down her spine.

The van doors had opened, revealing more pitch black darkness, the early hours of the morning as frigid and unwelcoming as Titus and Costia’s faces.

“You made it in one piece, Titus.” Costia sighed, eyeing Clarke with great disdain.

“Hardly.” Titus mumbled, watching Clarke’s eyes open. “She didn’t come easily.”

“And what of the other part of Bellamy’s plan?” Costia asked nervously, concern tingling her tone.

“Lexa lives.” Titus’ voice shook with indiscernible terror.

Costia’s expression, although dim in the light, was etched with relief. “Good.” She breathed quietly.

Clarke growled before she even knew what she was doing.

She tried to ignore the rush of relief that swept over her.

Lexa was alive.

Her Lexa.

She felt a deep pit of turmoil arise within her. If Lexa knew she was missing -and by now, she did- she was going to come looking for Clarke.

Clarke wanted her to move on, to forget. Clarke wanted her to be safe.

Clarke didn't want to be rescued, if she knew it would endanger Lexa.

Costia’s blonde hair was falling around her shoulders, her piercing blue eyes flaring when she locked gazes with Clarke. “I was expecting more from Lexa.” She murmured, a smirk painting itself on her lips. “Then again, one could make the argument that Lexa was simply using you to get over me.”

Clarke shook with anger, rage swelling in her chest. How dare she. How dare she break Lexa’s heart. How dare she utter Lexa’s name on her lips of deceit.

“Oh, have we never formally met?” Costia asked with a wry smile.

Clarke’s heart was hammering. The last time she’d seen Costia, she’d given her a shiner to remember her by, and judging by the bruise that clouded the beauty’s forehead, she hadn’t forgotten.

“The gag, Titus.” Costia ordered, her voice icy, cold. “She can scream, there’s no one this far out.”

Titus sighed, yanking Clarke forward, wincing as he tore out the gag.

Clarke spat, choking as a fresh wave of air hit her throat. “Don’t.” She growled, pushed against the van exterior by Titus, who was keeping her from trying anything. It wasn’t like she could fight, or run, as she was bound to the extremes. She had to endure.

“Don’t what?” Costia asked, lips twitching in a smile.

“Don’t talk about her.” Clarke warned, voice low and threatening.

Her bravado was brave. She certainly wasn’t in a position to be making threats.

Clarke's eyes could barely see in the mist of the morning, but judging by the lack of sound, they were far off from the city, towards the scrapings of countryside and wilderness within a few hours’ drive.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Clarke demanded, her voice cold, unwavering.

She needed to think like Lexa. Lexa was strong, brave, unafraid. Clarke knew she couldn’t break. She knew she had to think like her girlfriend.

Costia blinked, rather unimpressed. “Bellamy will be joining us here. I think you’ll like what he has in store for you. After all, you’re in love, right?” Her voice was teasing, brutally true.

Clarke bit her lip to keep from uttering a reply to get her killed. She needed to keep a level head.

“Oh, you think Lexa’s coming to get you?” Costia let out an amused laugh, hauntingly beautiful and melodious, and Clarke had to wonder what kind of person she was before she betrayed Lexa.

“Clarke…” Costia took a step towards her, eyeing her with scrutiny. “Don’t fool yourself. Lexa is a killer, a businesswoman. She never loved you. You were something to warm her bed at night…something to fuck her anger out into.”

Clarke felt rage boiling within her. She knew how wrong Costia was, how she’d mischaracterized Lexa’s soft fluttering kisses, her whispers of adoration, the way she’d held Clarke and worshipped her like she was some heavenly body.

“You bitch.” Clarke muttered lowly, practically foaming at the mouth. “You never deserved her. She trusted you! She loved you! She would have protected you, if you just trusted her!” Clarke seethed, roaring into the black abyss of the night.

Costia struck Clarke across the face, back handing her, sending her falling over into the hard, packed dirt beside the van. Clarke could feel blood oozing from her lip, her eye stinging. She couldn’t help the rage that welled up within her.

If Lexa wasn’t coming to save her, she was sure as hell going to make her last words count. Spitting out blood, she leaned up, eyes finding Titus, who’d been quietly cowering in the corner.

“And you.” Clarke growled, low and guttural. “Her family’s most trusted friend? Their loyal servant?” She spat. “You helped rob her of all she had left!” She shook with anger still.

Costia watched the way Titus’ expression shifted, guilt overtaking his features. It was clear that he still cared for Lexa, for the family. Why was he committing this atrocity? Blindly following Costia and Bellamy? What had they offered him?

“Lexa’s not here, Clarke!” Costia hissed, her aggressive side showing as Clarke felt yet another, harder blow to the face, crying out in pain. “No one to protect you from your own idiocy.”

Crimson blood trickled from Clarke’s nose, and she felt her eye shut in absolute searing pain. He struggled to breathe as Costia placed an aggressive kick to her ribs, and Clarke screamed in agony, almost sure that they were broken. She was a doctor, but she couldn’t think rationally. All she could imagine was Lexa. Protecting her, coming for her.

But that was selfish, and she knew better.

“Hey!” A voice sounded from the corner, and leaning against the van was John Murphy, hands shackled, feet bound, his face absolutely bruised and beaten in. “That’s enough! Why don’t you leave her the fuck alone!” His voice was hoarse.

Costia made a movement to step forward, to block Clarke from moving, but her phone buzzed in that moment, filling the tensest of silence's, like Clarke's utterances of pain. "It's Bellamy." She muttered, turning to Titus and arguing something Ina hushed whisper. Titus' eyes widened, and Clarke felt anger pool within her broken body, not for herself, but for Lexa. For his cowardice. For his betrayal. 

Clarke seized the opportunity of a little distraction. She turned her head back to her nameless defender. 

Clarke’s eyes widened in recognition as she spat out the blood pooling in her mouth, feeling her entire body protest yet again. “John…” She whispered, shaking her head. “No…No, what happened?” Clarke dragged herself over to him, gingerly taking her shackled hands to cup his face, his hands reaching out to her ribs to inspect the damage.

“Bell fucking lost it.” Murphy muttered, his voice strained. “When I heard he was going to attack, to take you…I tried to leave, Princess, I tried to warn you.” He wheezed, head bowed. “What happened?”

Tears welled in Clarke’s eyes as she felt her soul collapse in on itself. How many people needed to get hurt because of her?

“They’re dead, Murphy.” She whispered, and he winced visibly, hearing of the death of his comrades. “They attacked, and we…”

“Fuck.” Murphy growled, lowly. “FUCK!” He roared louder. He watched Costia whisper something to Titus, his eyes narrowing.

“The girls?” Murphy growled questioningly. “Reyes? Blake?”

It was heartwarming to see her "little brother" still had familial inclinations and loyalties to the right side. 

Clarke wanted to laugh. The right side? As if there were such a mythical thing. She knew it now, all too well. She was no longer the doctor with the glimmer in her eyes, and hope in her heart. She was realistic, stronger, battered. She knew she didn't care, she couldn't hold any convictions against Lexa. She was in too deep. Clarke would follow her until the ends of the earth.

“They're alive.” Clarke whispered, wishing death upon herself to somehow cope with the immense pain.

“Do you know where we are?” Clarke murmured, her hands dropping to her sides.

“No. Not a fucking clue. We're gonna fucking die here, Griffin." Murphy muttered. 

Clarke could hear Costia arguing with Bellamy and Titus with hushed whispers over the phone. "Bellamy. Do not let your feelings get the best of your judgement-"she hissed convincingly. 

She couldn't hear his rebuttal, but she imagined he didn't enjoy being told what to do from someone he considered a pawn. 

"Oh, now it's too far?" Costia demanded angrily. 

Clarke felt her heart skip a beat. Was Bellamy...defending her? Where was he? What was his goal, his angle, his purpose? 

"Titus shot at her." Costia declared haughtily. "Not me." 

Titus offered a meek apology, something about being startled. 

"Blake." Costia spoke chillingly, hands tightening around the phone. "If you can't do it, I will."

Clarke knew that, no matter how she looked at it, death awaited her at every turn. 

* * *

 

Dax had been reduced to a bloody, whimpering pulp, the shell of a man he once was.

Lexa had been ruthless, merciless, and brutal. She’d embodied the commander she was expected to be.

Mostly, she missed Clarke.

She’d spent nearly four straight hours terrorizing Dax. She’d broken bones, even knocked a few teeth out. She made him writhe and scream in agony.

And yet, she was unable to draw forth a confession, a piece of Intel, anything substantial at all.

Lexa’s head was throbbing. There was a reason he was Bellamy’s lieutenant, much like Anya was Lexa’s. He was tough, and Lexa had pushed him far over the breaking point. He was curled up, clutching at his battered body, begging Lexa with silent, pitiful whimpers.

It was almost as if he’d assumed that she wouldn’t go through with the brutality, the atrocities she’d just committed.

He’d taken to apologizing, then.

He cowered as Lexa towered above him, his split lip quivering as he murmured, “I’m….I’m sorry….Clarke…was a hero.”

And it was the subtle use of the past tense that sent Lexa spiraling over the edge of her own sanity.

“Was?” Lexa whispered, bile rising in the back of her throat.

Dax flinched as he nodded painstakingly slowly. “I’m…I’m sorry….” He swallowed a bit of blood before continuing. “Blake…said…she loved…you….”

Lexa’s eyes were tearing up, a choked sob escaping her lips as she yanked her gun from its holster. He jammed it to the side of Dax’s bruised temple, her lips quivering with unvented sorrow. “No…” She whispered.

Dax saw his way out. The only way to escape the clutches of a ruthless, hell bound Lexa Woods.

He took it.

“Clarke’s…dead…by now…” He spoke through gritted teeth. “They…played…you.”

Lexa felt a part of her soul die, instantly. The part that was human, the part that loved Clarke with soft whispers and delicate brushes of lips on blushing skin.

The final shred of her humanity.

Lexa pulled the trigger, and ended Dax’s life with a shot that echoed and shook every wall surrounding her, including those she’d let down in her heart for Clarke.

* * *

 

Anya had placed a gentle kiss to Raven’s temple, the signs of worry quite obvious from her glance alone.

“What is that brilliant mind of yours busying itself with now?” Anya murmured, watching the way Raven threw her phone across the table in exasperation.

Raven visibly relaxed under her lips, and Anya took in a breath wearily, tired of waiting on word from Lexa. It’d been nearly four hours. She had begun to think that perhaps her best option was kicking down the damn door and dragging Lexa out.

Never, in all her years of knowing Lexa, of befriending her so intimately, had she seen her leader so distraught, so lost.

Lexa had truly fallen so deeply in love with Clarke Griffin that she was incomplete without her. Anya couldn’t blame her. What was earth without heaven to preside over it? What was the sky without the cosmic, heavenly bodies that adorned it and lit the way?

“I just…” Raven bit her lip. “I don't understand how we could’ve been so blind.”

Anya furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?” She asked wearily. “You couldn’t have known about the attack, you-”

“Not the attack.” Raven sighed, her voice tired, her gaze still glassy from getting slightly angry and emotional over Clarke, whom they’d heard no word about. “Bellamy. I thought…I thought I knew him. I thought he was good.” She murmured.

Anya tilted Raven’s chin up, looking directly into her amber eyes. “You couldn’t have known. You loved him. He was your family. Don’t apologize for being loyal.”

Raven took in a breath, her body leaning heavily on Anya. “Love…” She shook her head. “I was stupid. I was blinded by it.”

Anya allowed herself a melancholy little smile. “You sound like Lexa.”

“Just…look at her.” Raven muttered. “Clarke’s absence…Look what it's done to her.”

“I can’t condemn her for doing everything in her power to get Clarke back.” Anya shook her head.

Raven nodded, gaze darkening. “I think she’s doing what’s best.”

Anya glanced around, making sure no one else was in the kitchen. Indra was out guarding the garage doors, eagerly awaiting Lexa’s return. Gustus had finished “disposing” of the “mess” that had been left in the kitchen, opting for a smoke break just outside.

“We will find her.” Anya assured quietly.

“Octavia should have been here.” Raven growled softly. “This was her fight, as much as it was Clarke’s, or Lexa’s.”

Anya could hear the implications behind Raven’s tone. “She’s not answering?”

“No.”

“Reyes, you can’t be suggesting-”

“And why not?” Raven sighed miserably. “That’s his sister, Anya. She could have been working with Bellamy all along.”

Anya’s frown was unsettling. She stepped forward, cupping Raven’s cheeks as she placed her lips on Raven’s, savoring the sweet taste of her companion. Raven immediately melted into the kiss, sighing softly, her anger dissipating.

She never would have imagined that the two angriest, most abrasive women in DC would have been so compatible, so soft and sensual and right for each other.

Now she didn't have to imagine.

Anya pressed her forehead to Raven’s, breaking their kiss off to gaze into her eyes breathlessly. “We will endure.” She reminded.

Raven was about to nod, to reply, when an earth-shattering bang was heard from the garage, followed by Indra’s shouting and Gustus’ running to investigate.

Anya instinctively put her hand over Raven protectively, noticing that Raven had done the same.

“Oh, no, Lexa.” Anya murmured, sympathy hanging off every syllable.

* * *

 

“Heda!” Gustus was shoulder to shoulder with Indra as he sidled into the garage, worry etched into his gruff expression.

“Gustus.” Indra muttered, shaking her head.

Their eyes wandered to Lexa, who’d stood there, leaning against the wall, Dax’s crimson, accusatory blood covering the expanse of the garage as she stared blankly at them, tears flowing freely, lip still trembling.

The words weighed Lexa down as if they’d formed an anvil over her chest, dragging her deeper into the murky depths of disbelief, her heart stopping, her breathing faint and ragged.

“Clarke…” She choked out, the gun loose in her grip.

Indra’s eyes widened, and Gustus’ expression turned to one of pure shock.

It hadn’t been an easy journey, but he’d come to like and respect the mighty Wanheda.

“Leksa….” He murmured softly, approaching slowly.

This wasn’t the commander and her soldier any longer.

This was Alexandria Woods, so young, vulnerable, world shattering beneath every step she took. This was the orphaned girl who’d lost her parents, and their close friend and personal security guard, who’d been like an uncle to her.

This was a woman of broken faith, of a dissolved heart.

Indra glanced down respectfully, bowing her head. “Lexa, I’m…I’m so sorry.” She murmured, turning sharply on her heel, likely to inform Anya.

Gustus felt Lexa collapse into his grasp, and he held her like she weighed nothing at all, a mere feather. “You fought valiantly.” He murmured, feeling her sobs and tears stain his shirt. “If what he said is to be believed, then she is at peace now. She is with your parents.”

Lexa couldn’t handle the grief that shook her to her very core.

She couldn’t think, breathe, exist.

She’d just lost her sun and her stars, her universe, her reason for living, for trying at all in such a vile world.

Gustus had not uttered another word as he’d taken Lexa to their room.

Just her room, now.

Lexa felt a brief loss of contact before new arms had enveloped her, cooing softly, wrapping her in a tight embrace as she sat off the edge of the bed Clarke had been on not a day prior.

How quickly times had changed.

Anya had shut the door, leaving her alone with Lexa, who was still covered in blood and sweat, and now, her own tears.

“I’m so sorry.” Anya whispered, and Lexa could hear that her voice wasn't far from breaking.

Lexa couldn’t formulate a response.

There was no point, no purpose, no reason to propel herself forward in this life of misery.

Below, in her kitchen, she’d heard shouting, screaming, an assortment of sounds that sounded a lot like glass being shattered, pots hitting the floor.

She couldn't have cared less. She couldn’t muster the energy to even open her eyes, gripping Anya’s shirt in absolute fatigue.

She hadn’t noticed how much time had passed. Anya had ushered her up, dragging her to the bathroom as she pinned Lexa against the counter, gently wiping the blood from her face.

She’d gone to Lexa’s closet and fetched a fresh outfit as well, laying it out for Lexa as she motioned to it.

Lexa remained against the bathroom door, completely numb. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything. If existing had been voluntary, Lexa would have ceased that as well.

“Get over here.” Anya whispered exasperatedly, shaking her head. Lexa could see the tears welling in Anya’s eyes, partially for Clarke, but also for seeing Lexa so broken.

Lexa remained right where she was, unflinching, unfeeling, unspeaking.

“She could be okay.” Anya’s whisper was sullen.

Lexa glanced up, her emerald gaze meeting Anya’s darker one, the only way she could possibly convey the pain she felt.

She knew Anya meant well, but it was all so plausible. Bellamy was wasting Lexa’s time, having her search for a trail, when he’d probably already gotten his sick, twisted revenge for his unrequited love.

And she'd been the fool. The idiot who’d been so blinded by love and ego that she’d completely ignored the fact that she was out of time.

Lexa inhaled a sharp breath, and Anya shook her head.

“This isn’t you, Lexa.” Anya growled. “Get up. Fight.”

Lexa stepped forward, ever so slowly, every step, every breath, every second without Clarke seemingly pure agony.  
She stepped right past Anya, crumbling in an almost fetal-like position as she felt her emotions overwhelm her, Clarke’s faint scent still on the pillow from her first breakdown, where nothing was as bleak or unforgiving.

She would never heal from this.

She didn’t want to.

Clarke wasn’t Costia. She was more.

And she was gone.

Anya muttered something about going after Reyes, storming out of Lexa’s room in a flurry.

Lexa barely had time to register the door to her bedroom open, revealing Abby Griffin herself, tears freely flowing down her high cheekbones, her hand clutched over her mouth in shock.

Lexa then realized, in her numb and grief stricken state, that it had taken Anya an hour to help clean her up and get her too breathe regularly. How pathetic. Lexa hated herself, she hated everything. More than that, she was empathetic. Unfeeling. She couldn't bring herself to yell, to kill, to spill the blood of hundreds in Clarke's honor. Clarke wouldn't have wanted that. But still,Lexa's sleep deprived state left her vulnerable to a sudden visit from Dr. Griffin senior. 

Perhaps that was what Reyes had been shouting about. She’d opted to alert Clarke’s mother. How had Lexa forgotten?

It was only fair, it was only right to know that her daughter- a beacon of light, of love, in everyone’s life…was gone, wiped from the earth.

And it was Lexa’s fault. Had she been more precise, more cautious, more unforgiving and less…blinded by love, she could have preserved Clarke’s life.

She’d made that promise to Dr. Griffin so seemingly long ago.

“Dr. Griffin!” Indra barked, her voice carrying rapidly as she hurried behind her. “I cannot permit you to-”

Lexa wiped at her eyes, shaking her head. “Indra…” She murmured, and Indra bowed her head as she stepped off immediately, closing the door behind her.

“I….” Lexa tried clearing her throat, to make some sort of frail apology. “Dr. Griffin, I…” Her voice caught in her throat, like a thorned rose that never fully bloomed. “I’m so sorry…” She murmured, and the tears spilled once more. Images of Clarke filled her mind, brilliant blue gaze and golden hair.

Abby stepped forward, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare.” She muttered, and Lexa awaited the derision that was coming her way.

Once more, like the slap she’d thought she had coming in the hospital, the derision never came.

“Oh, honey.” Abby murmured, enveloping the young woman in a tight hug as she pressed a kiss to Lexa’s head comfortingly.

Lexa couldn’t believe it.

For so long, she’d needed the simple touch of a mother, a loving glance, a word of guidance…she and Clarke had both been deprived of that. But this was something else altogether. This was Abby Griffin, a woman full of love and fire, forgiving her, pardoning her sins in the face of the darkest offense of her life: failing to protect Clarke.

For moments, Abby rocked Lexa back and forth, simply allowing the younger girl to sob into her shirt and doctor’s coat, clearly called from a shift at work.

When Lexa’s heart rate returned to something that seemed to resemble normality, Abby murmured, with a sniffle, “She loves you, you know. So much, Lexa. She’s so in love with you…” Abby chuckled, drying her eyes with her hands.

Lexa glanced up at her questioningly.

There was that tricky use of present tense rather than past. Clarke had loved her, that much was true, but in death?

Was Abby omniscient? Or simply comforting? How could she have known-

“She’s out there, Lexa.” Abby murmured quietly.

Lexa opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t find words.

Abby was delusional.

“I’ve known Bellamy Blake since he was a boy.” Abby murmured, softly combing her fingers through Lexa’s hair comfortingly. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Lexa felt the softest spring of hope in the winter of her soul. She couldn’t afford hope, anymore.

“He isn’t like you.” Abby added gently, and before Lexa could recoil and ponder the statement, she murmured, “He isn’t driven, like that. He would back out before hurting a hair on her head. Your partner, however…”

“Costia is not my partner…” Lexa spat out venomously, surprising herself, even.

Abby nodded. “I know, sweetie, believe me, I know.” She took Lexa’s chin in her hands. “I know how hard it is to know that somewhere out there, Clarke is suffering.” She whispered solemnly. “I had to for years, while she lived away from me, involving herself in God knows what. But I also know how much you love her.”

Lexa’s emerald forests were now clearing, tears leaving a softened effect in the glow of her eyes.

“You’re good, Lexa.” Abby whispered, staring straight into Lexa’s eyes, like a mother would to her daughter. “You’re so good. You have so much love to give.” She pressed on, and Lexa felt her abused, shriveled heart swell at the words. “I know you are. Clarke knows, too. You just do what you have to. That doesn’t change you. I want Clarke to have you…” She murmured through her tears.

Clarke.

Lexa’s soul ached. This talk would have meant everything in the world to her, if Clarke had still been around for her to worship, to cherish, to prove herself to.

“She’s out there.” Abby repeated firmly. She pressed a soft kiss to Lexa’s forehead. “And I’m here, okay? You need rest.”

Lexa didn’t remember nodding, or allowing Abby to gently push her onto her bed closing the door behind her, her face set in determination to save her daughter, and her daughter’s love.

This time, she couldn’t afford to leave Clarke the way she had so many years ago.

Lexa, who hadn’t slept for a second, finally sobbed herself to sleep, her body numb and her thoughts incoherent.

In her betrayed heart, in her saddened mind, Clarke was dead and gone.

* * *

 

“Lexa, my love, open your eyes.” Clarke’s coos were soft, gentle whispers, and she felt lips brush against her forehead, warm hands cupping her cheeks.

Lexa opened her eyes, and cerulean met verdant green, and the heavens and earth were reunited once more.

Lexa felt hot stains on her cheek, and she realized that she’d been crying. She took in her surroundings.

Clarke. First and foremost, Clarke.

Her girlfriend. Everything she’d ever wanted and loved in life.

Clarke had Lexa’s head cradled in her lap, her eyes shining with relief, with brightness, with wisdom that Lexa always had- the same wisdom Lexa knew no twenty-five-year-old should have possessed.

“Clarke.” Lexa rasped, her voice low and husky.

She slid her hands over Clarke’s, still cupping her cheeks, smiling. “Clarke, I missed you.”

“And I missed you too, ai hodnes.” Clarke murmured in Lexa’s tongue, leaning down to inhale her scent, to brush her lips against Lexa’s comfortingly.

They were sweet, warm, and…empty. As if, for some unknown reason, Lexa couldn’t actually feel them. As if she couldn’t taste Clarke, who had the sweetest flavor in the world.

“No.” Lexa gasped, eyes locking with Clarke’s, who was now smiling sadly. “No, no…Clarke…”

“Lexa.” Clarke’s voice was but a whisper.

“You’re dead, aren’t you?” Lexa asked, her voice choked, sob threatening to rise in her throat. “This…isn’t real…”

Clarke paused, her eyes scanning anything but Lexa’s, her long eyelashes batting away what appeared to be tears. She nodded with a sad smile.

“This…this can’t be…” Lexa shook her head violently. “Clarke, I…I just got you!”

But something was wrong. Eerie, even.

Her surroundings were finally taken in, and she realized that it was not at all what she’d thought.

The streets of Washington, D.C. were now largely empty. There was no dull roar of traffic, no shouts from vendors and “oohs” and “ahhs” from tourists. There were no men and women in suits, heads down, donning monotonous colors on their daily commutes to work.

Instead, the streets were lined with people Lexa recognized. Grounders, Arkers, people she’d killed. People she’d saved. Her family, her enemies, older people and children alike.

And yet, they were silent, still.

No one accused her, thanked her, bowed to her, or even glanced at them.

Lexa knew instantly that this was some sort of sick purgatory, and it absolutely destroyed her to think that Clarke was somehow stuck there, alone, because she hadn’t been fast enough. She hadn’t been ready.

Lexa slowly sat up, her fingers caressing Clarke’s cheeks. Clarke smiled softly, her blue gaze enveloping Lexa in a brilliant warmth.

“You have to be strong, Lexa.” Clarke warned gently. “You have to keep fighting. Your fight is not over.”

Lexa shook her head, tears falling freely. “Clarke, I’m tired…” She breathed. “I’m tired of fighting, of spilling so much blood….I missed you…”

“Lexa.” Clarke whispered, smile never leaving her features. “Be happy. Be free.”

“I can’t.” Lexa sighed in anguish. “Clarke, I love you.”

The reality was fading rapidly, and Clarke was beginning to fade out of Lexa’s vision. She could hear ringing, and shouting, distant and hazy.

Lexa clutched the front of Clarke’s jacket, shaking her head. “Clarke, don’t leave me.” She pleaded. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“I will always be with you.” Clarke promised, before Lexa was jolted awake.

Abby was standing there, her makeup smudged slightly, her hand over her mouth. Raven was beside her, holding a ringing phone.

Before Lexa could make a motion to stand, the phone had been thrust at her, and she peered down at Bellamy’s face, smiling as he posed for Raven’s contact picture.

Raven, teary eyed and intensely staring at Lexa, growled. “Answer it.”

Lexa felt her blood boil, her skin absolutely crawling with anticipation. She pressed the green button, awaiting Bellamy’s voice to flood the speakers.

Instead, she heard the sweetest, most agonizing sound she’d ever heard in her life. It was relief and pain all at once, the very definition of bittersweet. It gave Lexa life, meaning, a reason to continually inhale and exhale, to survive and endure.

It was Clarke.

“Hello?” Clarke’s voice rasped after a moment of silence, and there was thick emotion behind every syllable.

Lexa gasped, her hand flying to clutch her heart as she took in a ragged breath.

Abby grinned through her tears, and Raven took a moment to control her breathing,desperately trying to keep silent.

Anya watched from the doorway, her hand lacing with Raven’s ever so subtly.

“Clarke.” Lexa spoke out, and it was a choked sob, her emotions at the pinnacle, her adrenaline filled body hyper sensitive to every sound, every breath, every movement. She could have honed in on the beating of Clarke’s heart, if she had tried. “They….I…they told me…you were…” Lexa stumbled, unable to control her thoughts.

Clarke was alive.

Her Clarke.

The light of her life, anything and everything that was important to Alexandria Woods.

“Hey baby.” Clarke breathed, and it came out ragged and shy and ever so grateful.

Lexa wiped at the tears that had already fallen, the pained smile on her face a beauty that Clarke couldn’t behold.

But oh, how she wanted to.

“Clarke, are you hurt?” Lexa demanded. “Did he hurt you?” Lexa’s voice rose with every word. “I swear to god, Clarke, I’m going to-”

Clarke’s lack of a response was affirmative.

Lexa took in a deep breath, teeth gritting, jaw clenching, heart hammering.

“Where.” Lexa muttered into the receiver. “Clarke, where are you?”  
“I…” Clarke winced, and Lexa mirrored her reaction on the other end of the line.

What had they done to her?

“I don’t know.” Clarke admitted, and Lexa just knew that they were threatening her on the other end, likely dictating the conversation. “I…” She trailed off, and Lexa could hear hushed whispers in the background. “Please.” She pleaded, and Lexa could hear her crying. Her heart clenched at the sound, at the thought of tears running down Clarke’s cheeks.

“Costia…says its…where you lost yourself.” She spoke, her voice wavering.

Lexa’s heart dropped into her stomach. She knew exactly where Clarke was being held.

All the pieces were coming together, it seemed.

“Lexa, don’t do this. I love you.” Clarke pleaded. “I can’t lose you, don’t-”

“Clarke, I’m coming.” Lexa promised firmly, ignoring Clarke’s pleas.

There was no force in heaven or hell that could have stopped her from going. Her soul ached with the realization that Clarke, even in her lowly, broken state, was trying to protect her.

But she was the commander.

She feared for those in her path.

“Woods. You heard that?” Bellamy’s voice filled the speaker. “Every hour you delay, it gets worse. She already can’t breathe.”

His voice sounded reluctant. As if he hadn't done that to Clarke himself. As if he was in too deep, and had no choice but to carry on, as if this hadn’t been his plan all along. He was in love with Clarke, wasn’t he? How could he inflict so much pain on her, if that were true?

None of that mattered.

With the sound of the line dying, humming in Lexa’s ear, she stood abruptly, fists clenched at her side as she locked gazes with Raven, who had the same look of pain and determination in her darker gaze.

She was going to save the love of her life, who’d suffered, who’d endured so much to protect her.

“Bellamy Blake dies today.” She spoke boldly, her jaw locked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the incredibly short, rushed chapter, as you may have heard I broke my laptop, and likely won't be able to update until I get a new one (on a student's budget...lmao not happening).
> 
> This chapter is important for Lexa's final development arc, and what happened to Clarke and Bellamy is revealed in the next chapter, as well as Lexa's next steps. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and leaving such kind reviews. Apologies for my not answering them as of late, the broken laptop really puts a damper on that! However, I AM reading them off my phone when I can, so your feedback is always considered ;)
> 
> I'm at tumblr @ Effortlessly-Opulent if you'd like to send me prompts, chat me up, etc ;)


	23. You Can't Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. If you haven't been following me anywhere else- basically my laptop died forever, I lost a bunch of progress, and I'm going on vacation.

Bent and broken far beyond the point of exhaustion, Clarke had nearly fallen asleep on Murphy’s shoulder. Hours had passed in the frigid cold, and yet, Clarke heard nothing. She saw nothing, save for Costia idly leaning against the truck, satisfied with all the life she’d beaten out of Clarke thus far.

Murphy was formulating a plan, Clarke knew, one that would get him killed. She knew it was within his brotherly instincts to save her, to somehow take the fall. Clarke couldn’t let it happen. Hours ago, she’d whispered, in a short hiss “Don’t you dare try anything, John.”

His response shook her. “Woods isn’t coming for you!” He fired back. “No one is.”

“How do you know?” Clarke mumbled, trying to keep her voice steady. Her ribs ached, and she knew they had to be broken.

She’d never prayed for death before, but now, she did. She willed herself to give in to the sweet sway, the pull of lifelessness as it coursed through her, threatening to take her.

She felt herself go limp, head on Murphy’s shoulder as he began to panic, unsure if she was simply exhausted, or dead.

“Griffin!” He hissed. “Don’t you fucking die on me. It’s your fault we’re in this mess!”

“Asshole.” Clarke mumbled into his shirt, and he gave her a small, sacred, silent grin, because she was alive, and she still had a sense of humor.

At least they hadn’t beaten that out of her.

She hadn’t known how many hours had passed with her sitting like that, thoughts of Lexa filling her mind.

God, she’d missed Alexandria Woods. She’d missed everything about her. She’d missed her smile, her warm chuckle and throaty voice. She missed the way she’d whine Clarke’s name when she took her soft, full lips between her own.

Hell, she missed all of Lexa. Not only the Lexa she’d known when they were together, but the Commander as well.

She’d missed the Lexa that yelled, the Lexa that would get so frustrated that a vein in her neck would become apparent. She missed the Lexa that would exasperatedly sigh, “Clarke.” Whenever she did something inherently wrong.

She missed her best friend, the one she confided in about her mother, her father, everything. She missed her lover, who worshipped every inch of her body until she was too sore to walk the following day.

She missed every piece of Lexa, and it was simply dawning on Clarke that life without her was a life Clarke had no interest in living.

The worst part was, she had to wonder if the love of her life was okay. Titus had reported that she’d survived Bellamy’s initial attack, but was that enough to go on?

Murphy, however, was right. Lexa was not going to come for Clarke, if she had any say in it. She wanted Lexa safe, as far away from all the violence as possible. She was willing to die for it.

Clarke woke to the sound of Murphy’s growl, “Don’t you fucking touch her.”

Clarke’s blue gaze snapped open to find Bellamy Blake, crouched down before Clarke, looking as if he’d cried through the entire night.

Clarke wanted to spit on him for all he’d done.

“Clarke.” He whispered, Costia a mere few feet behind him. “Clarke, what did they do to you?”

“They?” Clarke croaked, her throat dry and sore. “You did this, Bellamy.” She winced when she inhaled too sharply, remembering her possibly broken ribs in a moment of agony.

Bellamy whipped around on Costia. “Why?” He demanded, rising to tower over her in height. “I told you to get her unharmed!”

Costia’s jaw set, and Clarke hated the way it reminded her of Lexa. “You need to make up your mind, Bellamy. I’m helping you distance yourself.”

Clarke was livid. “Why don’t you tell me what the fuck is going on?” She demanded, meeting Bellamy’s gaze with fury. “You…. you _invaded_ Lexa’s _home._ You kidnapped me. For what?”

Bellamy paled. “God, Clarke, it wasn’t supposed to be like this-”

“They’re dead, Bellamy!” Murphy roared. “My friends, our people, the ones you sent after Lexa. They’re all dead.”

Bellamy lowered his head, eyes finding the ground shamefully. “Lexa killed them.”

“No!” Clarke growled. “You did! Oh- fuck.” She winced as she felt a sharp tear in her side. Sh prayed she wasn’t internally bleeding. Or, if she was, that it would all be over soon enough. “Why, Bellamy? She offered you peace!”

“There’s no peace here!” Bellamy growled. “You know that we could never coexist. I was protecting this family!”

“Oh, you and your fucking family.” Murphy snarled. “Look where they are, huh? You had your girlfriend here beaten to death, your sister is gone, Raven…” He trailed off, shaking with anger. “You’re delusional, for fuck’s sake.”

Bellamy’s jaw set. “You too, Murphy? I thought you were loyal.”

“I was. Until you fucking fell off the wagon. I’d sooner serve the goddamn Commander.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Lexa’s title.

“Bell…” Clarke gasped, clutching her side, eyes swollen slightly. “What did you hope to gain…from all of this….”

“You.” Bellamy nearly whimpered. “I wanted to save you, and O. I needed to draw Lexa out. And I…Lexa needs to be broken. She’s a threat, Clarke, you can’t see that but-”

“No.” Clarke mumbled, her bottom lip trembling. “You are.”

Bellamy looked taken aback. He simply couldn’t formulate a response. This was his Clarke, the love of his life. And she was scared? Fearful? Of him? Not the demon Commander who had her wrapped around her finger?

“Focus, Bellamy.” Costia hissed. “I promised I’d help you get through this. Make the call.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “The call? What call?” She demanded.

Titus brandished Clarke’s phone, and Clarke’s eyes narrowed.

Costia aimed her gun at Clarke. “You’re going to talk to Lexa.” She spoke cold, icy and charged with hate.

Clarke closed her eyes in response, leaning her head back with a dull thud. She refused.

“Or what?” She demanded, voice hoarse. “I’m not leading her here. Torture me. Kill me. I love her. I wouldn’t do that…”

Bellamy eyed Costia’s gun disdainfully. “Clarke’s right, Cos. We need-”

Costia tilted her wrist, and suddenly, her gun was at Murphy’s forehead.

“Feel like talking now, Griffin?”

* * *

 

“Absolutely not.” Anya growled, turning to face Raven in the kitchen.

Raven’s jaw set and she reached instinctively for her gun. “That’s not your decision, Anya.”

“You’re emotionally compromised.” Anya snapped, and she regretted it when she saw Raven’s look of offense.

“You’re going.” Raven growled.

“Yes, because I have to back Lexa.”

“Oh, you have to?” Raven scoffed.

“Yes.” Anya sighed. “I…I’d die for her. She needs all the backup she can get, which-”

“Which is why I need to go!” Raven shot at Anya, tight fists at her side.

“She’s just like you.” Anya whispered, reaching forward to tuck a stray lock of Raven’s hair back. “She’s got skin in the game, and she’s unstable.”

“Then why aren’t you stopping her?” Raven demanded.

“She’s my commander, Raven.” Anya sighed, running a hand through her hair.

Raven shook her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “What is it with you Grounders and your loyalty to her?”

“She’s our leader.” Anya reminded sternly. “And a fine one at that. Clarke didn’t fall in love with just anybody.” She added the last part softly, reminding Raven that Clarke came to care for the woman as well

Raven sighed dejectedly, muscled tensing. She was a warrior, despite her leg. She needed to fight, to spill blood. It was her instinct, when everything went terribly wrong.

“Look at me.” Anya prompted her, taking Raven’s chin in between her fingers, tilting it up.

Raven’s eyes found Anya’s, and for a moment, both souls were at peace.

“This is all going to end.” Anya whispered, whimpering in surprise when Raven pulled the slightly taller woman down to her lips, tenderly locking them with her own.

Even in their kisses, they were battling, arguing.

It was an argument they both thoroughly enjoyed.

A knock on the wall beside them caused them to jump apart, Raven’s hand flying to her gun.

Indra’s eyes narrowed as she regarded Lexa’s lieutenant and the Arker with prejudice. “If you’re going to continue arguing, might I suggest a room?” She growled.

Anya sighed, biting her lip. “Chit yu gaf, Indra?” _What do you want, Indra?_

“Lexa has already left.” Indra informed them. “By herself.”

“What a fucking idiot.” Raven seethed, slamming her fist on the counter. “I knew she’d try to pull something like this, and we don’t even know where she’s going, she-”

“Wait!” Anya snapped, causing her to look up. “We can still help.”

“Help?” Raven scoffed. “How?”

“You might not know Lexa, but you do know Bellamy Blake.”

* * *

Lexa’s hands were shaking.

In an effort to quell the spastic behavior, Lexa had forced both her hands on the wheel, white knuckles gripping to the brink of breakage.

Eyes trained on the road ahead, Lexa was an absolute mess of emotions. She’d grabbed her nearest two firearms, and prayed that her knife was still strapped in her belt where she kept it.

She’d left faster than she ever had in her life.

Her Clarke, her angel, was alive.

And, by the sound of her voice, not faring entirely too well.

At that, Lexa’s muscles tightened, and she felt her leather jacket cling to her body in response.

Clarke was beaten.

Clarke was broken, bruised, bloodied. Who knew what they’d done to her? Who knew what atrocities they’d committed to her love?

Lexa bit her lip, almost to the point of bleeding.

This was her fault. She should’ve protected Clarke. She should’ve been aware. And now, Clarke was in the clutches of the vile Blake brother who wanted her head on a pike.

And Lexa would gladly offer up her head for Clarke’s life. That wasn’t even in question. Anything for Clarke Griffin.

Clarke had a mother, loving friends, an outstanding career to return to. Lexa knew that she was the lowly, worthless gangster, who’d traded her life for blood years ago.

Clarke was everything. Clarke was bright, radiant, a reminded of all the good and humanity her sacrifices had brought.

And Lexa?

Lexa Woods was a hypocrite. She’d gone to such outlandish lengths to save Clarke that she could never return from the monster she’d become.

She remembered the words Clarke had so sullenly whispered to her after she’d removed the bullets from Lincoln’s body, seemingly decades ago.

_"He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."._

Clarke’s quoting of Nietzsche seemed dramatic at the time.

Now, it fit Lexa like a glove.

She was the monster, turned by the gang and the ongoing war, Bellamy and Emerson, Roan and Nia.

Clarke was her ray of light, saving her from the eternal darkness of the abyss.

Lexa swore to herself, there and then, that she’d never let that light burn out.

Even if she herself did in the process.

* * *

 

“She’s coming, Bellamy. You need to get yourself together.” Costia’s hiss of a whisper was heard from

Bellamy just sucked in a breath in response, allowing the dewy air to fill his lungs as he tensed.

“You can’t do this.” Costia’s question was more of a statement.

Bellamy glared at her, and his silence said it all.

He couldn’t do it.

Costia reached out, putting her arm on his bicep gently, almost comfortingly.

“Bellamy, she doesn’t feel the same way.” Her voice was low, challenging. “You’re going to let Woods rip your family apart? After all she’s done, just let her get away with it?”

Clarke wanted to kill her on the spot, just for Lexa’s sake.

Lexa.

Lexa knew where she was. Lexa was coming for her.

The thought gave her both chills and fluttering feelings at the same time.

Her Lexa.

She was going to see her again.

She had to protect her.

Clarke knew how convoluted that sounded, she did. She was the one in binds, beaten half to death.

But this was Lexa Woods.

They wanted her head on a pike. They wanted her blood spilt before the day was done.

Clarke was far too in love to even consider the possibility.

Lexa had taught her well enough, sharpened her skills, her senses, her mind. Of course, she couldn’t fight like Lexa, but hell, she’d die trying.

For her.

“Murphy.” Clarke mumbled, elbowing her comrade.

“Princess.” Murphy sighed, glancing up at Clarke, battered.

“We need a plan.”

“Now you say that.” Murphy shook his head. “Man, you and Woods…this is deep, huh?”

Clarke felt tears prick at her tired eyes. “I…I want to marry her, someday, John.”

Murphy wanted to laugh. To scoff at the incredulity of the idea.

Instead, he felt nothing, perhaps even an inkling of happiness for Clarke, who’d been like a sister to him, where he’d still treated everyone around him as trash, playing Bellamy’s guard dog the whole time.

If a sacrifice needed to be made, it was his to make.

For Clarke.

For Raven.

For family.

Murphy understood the word. He didn’t taint it, like Bellamy. He didn’t hide behind it to excuse a massacre.

He carried the weight of it, like anvils on his slumped shoulders, nobly.

Their ears pricked when Bellamy turned abruptly from Costia.

“If you can’t follow through with your own plan, Blake…” Costia sighed, tension visible in her lithe frame. “Then leave.”

“But-”

“I’ll finish this. I can still talk to Lexa. She’s still mine.” Costia breathed, feeling the guilt eat away at her soul.

She reminded herself why she was doing this.

For family.

That seemed to be the word of the day.

Bellamy’s eyes pleaded with Costia. “Don’t hurt her.”

Clarke knew he was referring to her.

Costia scoffed at that. “Bell. Only one of us walks out of this unscathed. That’s why you have to leave. And I don’t mean just here. D.C.  You have to run. The Arkers will kill you for your cowardice, for sending their brothers and sisters to Lexa’s, straight into the flame. And if you stay, Lexa will kill you. I can’t protect you.”

Bellamy’s jaw set as he turned to Clarke, who flinched at his presence.

Murphy bristled defensively, and Bellamy froze in place.

“God, I never wanted this.” Bellamy murmured, kneeling down, eye to eye with Clarke. “There’s so many things I haven’t told you-”

Clarke could feel the anger, the hatred, the betrayal bubbling inside her chest. “Go, Bellamy.” She growled, her voice unstable. Every part of her, whether physical, mental, or emotional, ached. “Run and hide.”

Clarke watched Bellamy whisper, “I’m so sorry, Clarke.” As he rose, turning sharply on his heel, headed for his car.

One less coward for Lexa to pick off.

* * *

 

Lexa knew, with each and every twist and turn that took her off the beaten path, off road, where it was all ending.

Where it had all began, essentially.

Lexa remembered everything so vividly.

She’d been reading on her bed and Costia had poked her head into Lexa’s room, the Woods Manor uncharacteristically silent.

_“Hey.” Costia murmured as she stuck her head in through the door. Her golden locks were illuminated by the sunlight peeking in through the window as Titus gave a quick bow._

_“Thank you, Titus.” Costia nodded, turning to Lexa with a smile._

_“Hey.” Lexa murmured back, smile in place as she set her book aside, smiling even more when Costia straddled her, lacing their hands together as she leaned down to place a kiss on Lexa’s lips._

_“Mm, my marine. I’m so glad you’re home, Captain Woods.” Costia grinned into her lips, watching as Lexa pulled away to breathe. “The house is…awfully quiet.” She noted carefully._

_“My parents are away on their annual retreat.” Lexa informed her dutifully. “My father says it’s how they’ve been preserving their marriage this far. I like to think I had a hand in that.” Lexa teased, lighter and freer than her future, cross counterpart._

_Costia gave her a wry smile. “Taking notes for our marriage, are we?” She teased back._

_Though Lexa hadn’t asked, Costia had felt the energy her girlfriend of six years had been supplying. That made the next task even harder on her already heavy heart._

_Costia traced the intricate tattoos on Lexa’s bare bicep, causing chills on the brunette’s skin._

_Lexa pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Costia wanted nothing more than to melt into it._

_Bellamy was never so gentle with Costia._

_A part of her truly loved Lexa Woods._

_“Mmm, thinking ahead already?” Lexa smiled blissfully against her lips, rousing her from her thoughts._

_“Where are they going?” Costia asked with a wistful sigh._

_When Lexa cocked a brow, she added, “So I know where our honeymoon will be.”_

_Lexa smirked. “I don’t think you want our honeymoon in a cabin near Alexandria lake. Not even the larger one up north.”_

_Costia nodded, biting her lip, forcing a smile._

Lexa had just handed over her parents’ lives, with the promise of a sealed future with Costia.

How foolish she’d been.

Her parents died within two weeks after.

She tried to push this into the furthest recesses of her addled mind, turning onto the dirt road she’d seen so many times, analyzing the wreckage of her parents’ accident, identifying charred bodies.

Where she’d fallen on her knees, asking an invisible omniscient being how they could be so cruel.

Lexa knew not to make the same mistake twice.

Bellamy had to die.

Clarke Griffin was coming home with her.

* * *

 

“Titus, don’t you dare take your gun off of her. You started working for me the moment you helped find her parents’ location and sell it to Bellamy Blake.” Costia growled, both Murphy and Clarke on their knees before her, her gun aimed in the general direction of their bodies. “We want a clean negotiation.”

Clarke wanted to gasp in surprise, to feel something, anything, but she felt completely deprived. She could barely breathe.

Lexa’s car, black, stoic, threatening, pulled up in a flurry, the brakes down before Clarke could blink.

Lexa was there.

And, god, she looked like the most beautiful angel of death, shutting her car door with an intensity that Clarke heard echoing throughout the forgotten road.

And once more, emerald met cerulean, and the world was thrown into upheaval.

“Clarke.” Lexa whispered, tears forming in her gaze.

Clarke wanted to shout her response, but she found that energy was a commodity in very short supply for herself, and for Murphy.

They needed Lexa, more than ever.

But where was her backup? Clarke knew better than to expect Lexa to bring out her cavalry of trained killers, but no one at all? Not even Anya?

It occurred to Clarke that Lexa was interested in sparing as many lives as possible.

Of course she’d come alone, to be the hero, the flawless martyr.

Clarke was so in love, that sometimes, she forgot to breathe. It was hard to believe Lexa existed.

She prayed that this wasn’t some sick hallucination. She couldn’t take the heartbreak

Lexa’s hair, carelessly parted over her shoulder, the way Clarke loved it, blew with the slight breeze. Her gaze softened, her lips parted ever so slightly, and her pristine figure tensed under her leather jacket as she laid her eyes upon her love.

Clarke looked like she was in absolute tatters, hanging onto her life by the finest thread.

Seeing Lexa reawakened something within her, it gave her hope. It gave her life.

Hell, it gave her a reason to smile.

When Lexa made a motion to step forward, to run to Clarke, to embrace her and revel in the fact that the love of her life was still alive, she found Titus blocking her path.

Titus, a wreck himself, crying out of his own guilt. Titus, gun in hand, arm limp, petty apologies spilling from his lips.

“You.” Lexa practically growled, having to tear her eyes away from Clarke to address the traitor to her family.

“Alexandria, I-”

“Do not call me that.” Lexa whispered, her sharp jaw locking in indignation. “You have no right-”

“Lexa.” Costia called from her spot, and Lexa regarded her with such intense animosity that Clarke was sure she was going to pull the trigger at any moment. “Your fight is with me.”

At the sudden relief, Titus practically scurried away, apologizing profusely, over and over again.

Clarke felt nauseous. She wanted to yell, to scream to Lexa, “Don’t let him get away!”

But the truth of the matter was, Clarke was dying. Her minutes were numbered.

She wanted to ensure that no extra blood was spilt. Not for Titus, but for Lexa’s sake.

Lexa needed to survive this, survive her. She could help with that much.

“My fight is with Bellamy Blake!” Lexa all but roared, holding her gun in a semi-threatening manner. “And you.”

“Bellamy’s gone.” Costia muttered, allowing Lexa to inch closer. “It’s just you and me. The way it should have been all along.”

“You did this…” Lexa practically whimpered, eyes taking Clarke in. She resisted the urge to rush to her love. That wouldn’t end well. Costia had pulled the trigger before, what was to stop her now?

“You know where we are?” Costia asked, swallowing the doubt that rose in her throat.

Lexa’s eyes hardened, and Clarke saw her entire body steel itself. “I never should have trusted you. I was so blinded by my love…” Lexa shook her head.

“Your parents wouldn’t have wanted-”

“How DARE you presume to tell me what they would have wanted?” Lexa roared and Costia flinched.

Clarke took labored breaths, feeling as if she’d been drugged. She knew what the symptoms of internal injury and death were. She knew she was experiencing them, and yet she remained silent, waiting for Lexa to end it all, one way or another.

“Lexa, I made a choice.” Costia breathed, and Clarke could hear the pain, the anxiety, the fear in her voice.

“You sold yourself out. To Bellamy.” Lexa shook her head. “That wasn’t a choice. It was a betrayal, of the highest degree.”

Costia sucked in a sharp breath. “He offered me safety, payment, immunity. He was waging a war against you Lexa. I had to protect myself, and my own, I-”

“No.” Lexa shook her head. “Don’t you ever excuse what you did. I’ve no interest in whatever lies you tell yourself, Costia. This ends here.”

“Your parents were-”

“Dead.” Lexa all but whispered. “Right here.” She motioned to the floor with her hands, the same packed earth Clarke was nearly dying on. “Because of you. Because of me.”

Clarke noticed the way Lexa slowly gripped her gun. Her gaze flickered to Costia’s. If she could have, she would’ve gasped in shock.

Of course they’d brought Lexa here, where her parents had been ripped from her life.

Some sort of sick, psychological torture Bellamy and Costia had no doubt dreamt up together.

Clarke wanted to kill Costia herself.

The wind blew in short gusts, whistling through the air, carrying whispers of untold pain and loss. Clarke tried not to listen, to focus on the seething brunette before her, the brilliant emerald eyes that made her feel so at ease and on fire at the very same time.

“Hey.” Murphy nudged her, lips barely moving.

Clarke’s gaze flicked to his. He was tensing, bound arms leading to rippling muscles as his gaze steeled, locking with Lexa’s.

Clarke’s mouth parted slightly when she saw Lexa give him, without staring for too long, the curtest of nods.

And then it was over before it had even begun.

Murphy, though still bound and nearly lifeless, threw his battered body, hurling himself into Costia’s legs with full force as they both cried out at the pain, Costia’s gun flying to the earth several feet away.

Lexa was quick on the draw, just as she was in Clarke’s memory, in her dreams.

Her pistol was brandished within seconds, expertly aimed at Costia’s head, as Murphy rolled back messily, seeming to dive out of the way.

Clarke’s heart was racing, her eyelids fluttered in tired shock.

Lexa’s eyes, emerald and glazed with unshed tears, were set with cruel intentions.

Costia froze, her tears now freely falling. She shook her head. “Alexandria, I-”

Lexa shook her head, and Clarke could see the violent tremor in her elegant hands. She could see the remorse, the fear, the regret.

The decision was ultimately Lexa’s.

It had started with Costia, and it had ended with Costia.

Lexa flicked the safety off, and Clarke knew the gun was cocked.

It was happening.

Lexa took in a steadying breath. “Final words.” She breathed.

Costia shook her head, denial pouring out of every breath she raggedly took in and released. “I’m sorry, I never wanted this, I can-”

Clarke had not expected the shot to be so piercing. It was unsilenced, echoing in the ring of surrounding trees, shaking birds, sending them flying across the pale sky.

Blood stained the earth around them. It seeped into the ground, and death tainted the spot once more.

She hadn’t realized that she’d closed her eyes until she opened them once more, her vision filling up with visions of Lexa.

Except, they weren’t visions.

There was no time to mourn for Costia. That burden, unfortunate as it was, fell to someone else.

Lexa had a priority, and that was, forever from that moment, Clarke Griffin.

Lexa was really there.

“Clarke!” Lexa’s arms were around her in an instant, and Lexa was kissing her head in a mixture of worry and relief, as Clarke's lips were cut and bruised. "I never thought I'd see you again." 

"She..." Clarke coughed, eyes flicking to Costia. "Hits pretty damn hard." 

Lexa's sad smile was the most beautiful thing Clarke had ever witnessed, and she adored the ache it caused in her soul. She'd made Lexa laugh, at least. That was something she certainly wanted if she was on the brink of death. 

“What happened? What did they do to you?” Lexa demanded, her tone low and threatening with a protective tinge. 

“Lexa.” Clarke croaked, and somehow, throughout all the pain, a smile graced her lips. “You made it. I knew you would...”

“Clarke.” Lexa choked out, pressing a desperate kiss to Clarke's forehead, voice dripping with panic as she found herself cupping her bruised cheeks. “Where does it hurt?”

“Ribs.” Clarke grunted.

Lexa’s eyes widened in horror as she peeled Clarke’s shirt, matted with blood, for a better view. She immediately retracted when Clarke let out an ungodly wince, and Lexa’s eyes filled with fresh tears.

"Oh my god, Clarke." She whispered. 

She couldn’t stand to see Clarke like this.

Especially if she was the catalyst.

“Broken.” Clarke informed her of her own professional medical opinion in a single worded grunt. “Let’s get out of here.”

Crying and yet trying to maintain her composure, Lexa was knelt before Clarke, reaching for her blade as she set about undoing her bonds, letting out a sharp string of curses when she realized Clarke had metal handcuffs on.

“Fuck.” Lexa growled as she eyed Costia’s limp body, bleeding on the floor beside them. Murphy was some little ways away from it, eyes fixated on her expressionless face.

He’d seen enough death in this lifetime.

Lexa flinched as soon as she saw Costia, and a fresh wave of pain washed over her already aching face.

“Hey.” Clarke’s voice was barely there, cracked and coated with pain. “Lexa.”

Lexa’s eyes flashed to Clarke’s, and the world stopped turning, like it always did when Lexa’s eyes found hers. Her eyes were full of fear, and Clarke realized, it was for her.

“Clarke.” Lexa breathed, cupping her face ever so delicately, marveling at the wounds she’d sustained. “My god, Clarke. What have they done to you?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Clarke’s tired body gave out, and she found herself collapsing into Lexa’s arms, unable to properly embrace her.

Lexa, like she had since day one, caught her instantly, Clarke’s head finding purchase in Lexa’s soft neck.

“I love you.” Clarke murmured quietly. “Thank you.”

“I love you too. More than anything.” Lexa’s response was choked. “Clarke, you need to-”

“I’ll be fine.” Clarke promised, her voice soft, reminiscent of their early mornings spent together.

“No. In my dream, you…” Lexa bit her lip, glad Clarke couldn’t see her expression.

“I’m here.” Clarke offered up weakly.

Lexa’s eyes flicked to Murphy, and she realized she was in a race against time to get the two back to urgent care.

Never would she have dreamed of saving the life of an Arker. But of course, he’d just saved hers. And more importantly, Clarke’s.

If she failed, the blood was on her hands.

And Lexa’s hands were already soaking in crimson regret.

Lexa shakily pushed Clarke back slightly, eyeing her battered girlfriend with a feeling of great concern. “Clarke.” She murmured, urgency clear in her tone. “We need to get you to your mother, okay?”

Clarke nodded.

Lexa bit her lip. “You can’t walk.”

“I can.”

“I’m going to carry you.” Lexa decided, scooping her tight arms under Clarke, feeling the girl give out instantly in her hold as she slowly rose up.

 “Murphy.” Clarke coughed out. “Lexa, help John, he…” Clarke rasped.

Lexa nodded reassuringly, making her way to her car hurriedly. “I will.”

“We can’t leave him.” Clarke breathed.

“I won’t my love, I’ll take care of it.” Lexa whispered, managing Clarke delicately as she struggled to get the door open, sliding Clarke to lay down in the back.

“This is Alexandria lake…” Clarke breathed raggedly, clarity forming behind tired, cerulean eyes.

“It is.” Lexa murmured, sitting Clarke in a somewhat decent position to strap her seatbelt.

“Your namesake.” Clarke mumbled.

Lexa chanced a devastated smile at that, and Clarke felt her wounds heal, replaced by what felt like an axe to the heart. "Yes, my parents they...Costia....I...." She found herself unable to finish the sentiment. 

“I’m so sorry.” Clarke whispered, blinking her tears away. "I'm so....so....sorry." 

Lexa paused, her thumbs instinctively brushing forward to wipe away her tears, pressing a feather light kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “It’ll be okay. I have you.”

“Always.” Clarke nodded wanting to sleep so badly, so desperately.

“Hey!” Lexa snapped her back to attention, eyes pleading with Clarke. “Don’t you dare leave me, Clarke.”

“I won’t.” Clarke sighed, the words barely filling the air. “Just…sleep.”

Lexa bit her lip.

There was a fine line between sleep and the dangerous siren call of death.

“Clarke? No…” Lexa’s voice was becoming increasingly faint, echoing, reverberating in the space of Clarke’s mind as she leaned into Lexa’s warm touch.

“They key!” Murphy’s voice echoed all the way over to Lexa’s car, falling on Clarke’s deaf ears. “The key to the cuffs are in her pocket.”

Lexa cussed under breath as she left Clarke limp against the seat, bolting to help her friend.

If Clarke woke up, and Lexa had left Murphy to die, she knew there’d be hell to pay.

Lexa had come for her.

Once again, Lexa had saved her life. And she’d given Lexa’s purpose.

Dying would surely erase all that.

 

* * *

 

“Really?” Anya wasn’t entirely surprised when the cab pulled at the foot of another expansive estate, quite like Lexa’s.

“Try not to look so on edge.” Raven teased, though it was hypocritical at best. Her eyes were hollow, sunken, cheeks gaunt, all from the stress and lack of sleep.

To Anya, she was still, doubtlessly the most beautiful, radiant being on earth.

But Raven was not in good mental health.

“I’m sorry.” Anya growled lightly as she stepped out of the cab, tossing the fare backwards as Raven joined her, waiting until it drove off down the private road before brandishing their guns. “I just took a fucking cab straight into the heart of the East side, home of my rival gang. Should I loosen up a bit?”

Raven smirked. “If we brought one of Lexa’s cars, we would’ve been shot up miles ago. Arkers know to spot those things from the goddamn horizon if they have to.”

Anya’s lip curled. “If they still work for Bellamy.” She pointed out.

Raven sighed, shaking her head. “After Bellamy dug their graves by sending them to Lexa’s? You’re right. They’re probably mutinous. And they might be here. Which is why I want you to stay behind me.”

“ _Me_?” Anya scoffed. “Stay behind _you_? I’m _Lexa’s lieutenant_.”

“I’m Bellamy’s muscle.” Raven fired back, shooting a then solemn glance to Anya. “Really, though…be careful. If he’s holed up here for some reason, he’ll be armed.”

Anya reached out, putting a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “Lexa hasn’t sent any word yet. Raven, if we encounter him, you don’t have to-”

“I do.” Raven snapped, shaking herself loose of Anya’s grasp. “I will.” She whispered as they began their ascent, heads up, eyes open, as Indra had coached Lexa and Anya so many times before.

* * *

 

“Drink some water.” Lincoln offered Octavia a small smile as he plopped down beside her on the bench, in the middle of the train station, waiting for the ride that would begin their future.

“I’m not really thirsty.” Octavia admitted as she ran a hand through her straight brunette mane, tossing it back.

“You’ve been on edge all day, O.” Lincoln murmured, turning to his girlfriend with a knowing look.

“The day hasn’t even started yet.” Octavia grumbled, tossing back the water with a sigh.

Together, they were silent for a moment, watching groups of people pass in inconspicuous clusters, going about their daily business as if there hadn’t been total war raging somewhere, somehow, between twelve gangs in the streets of D.C.

Sometimes, Octavia liked to think she wasn’t a part of it.

But as she’d overheard Lexa berate herself, muttering, “If I’m not part of the cure, I’m part of the disease”, she’d come to realize that it was true.

And running? Away from all her problems, from her deranged brother, from Clarke and Raven, and even Lexa, who’d arranged for her safe passage?

She was certainly a disease.

She glanced down at Lincoln’s leg, placing a gentle hand on his knee, and then swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Something’s wrong.” She whispered hoarsely.

Lincoln immediately turned, cupping her cheeks with a look of surprise and intense concern. “Octavia, baby what is it?”

Octavia bit her lip, rage welling deep within her chest. “Raven hasn’t been in touch. Neither has Clarke.”

Lincoln nodded slowly, brow furrowing. “But they’re both busy, right? I mean, Lexa and Clarke were practically honeymooners when we left, and Raven had Anya…”

Octavia sighed, her shoulders slumping, ruining her otherwise impeccable posture. “I know. You’re probably right.”

Lincoln clicked his tongue, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, eyes trained on her hesitant face. “Tell me what’s really bothering you, Octavia. I’ll help you fix it.”

“It’s Bellamy.” Octavia huffed, holding back tears of frustration.

She was so close. Close to freedom, to being with Lincoln, without targets on their backs. She was so close to happiness.

Except Bellamy wasn’t even there, and yet, he was in the way.

She felt ridiculous. They were running from him, and yet, some part of her craved his blessing.

“What about Bellamy?” Lincoln asked, his voice guarded.

It had been something of a strain on their relationship. The topic of Bellamy was rather sour, after what he’d done to Lincoln. Lincoln was a man of good heart and pure intentions, with such an incredible ability to forgive.

But Octavia was not. She didn’t possess that ability.

Bellamy had stepped much too far out of the morally gray area for her liking.

She knew that she’d resent anyone who hurt her brother.

It was sick, then, that she wanted to be the one to do it. She wanted to ensure that he’d never hurt anyone ever again.

It was eating away at her.

In the distance, the train was approaching, a dot rapidly growing at the edge of the horizon. People swarmed around their bench, much too eager to get aboard.

“We can go back.” Octavia swallowed the lump fighting to rise in her throat. “Go back, and…”

“And what?” Lincoln sighed. “Would you take up arms against your own brother? Because that’s what it will come to.”

Octavia glanced away at the train, shaking her head. “We were supposed to run…”

Lincoln glanced at Octavia wearily. “Octavia, I know you.” He murmured in her ear. “I know you’re a fighter. Fierce, and loyal, and so brave. And I know how good your heart is. Some people, they can walk away from it all. It’s a luxury, the ability to just step off this platform and ride away feeling absolved. You and I? We’re not those people, Octavia.”

“So what?” She practically choked out. “We’re made to suffer?”

Lincoln gave her a smile, leaning forward to capture her lips tenderly with his own, wrapping his arms around her.

“Maybe. But we don’t suffer alone.”

* * *

 

“Can you fucking believe it?” Raven growled as she kicked the wall beside the entrance, her gun loose in her grip. “He’s not here.”

Anya sighed, watching as Raven sat on the lowest step, burying her head in her hands, gun set aside. She moved behind the darker haired girl, sliding to sit on the step above, her legs coming around on either side of Raven as she leaned down.

Raven tossed her head back, glancing up into Anya’s eyes, vulnerability at her core, seeping through her gaze.

She’d been frightened, but she’d put on a brave face. She’d come. She was ready and willing to face her demons, and the success was absolutely irrelevant to Anya. The only thing that mattered was Raven’s safety.

And Raven was safe.

Anya leaned down, hands sliding around the sides of Raven’s face as she kissed her girlfriend, slightly upside down and breathless.

“We checked every room.” Anya sighed, kissing her forehead before breaking apart and settling for gently rubbing her shoulders. “No people, no cars, nothing… The place isn’t even tossed.”

“Now it is.” Raven growled, her jaw clenching.

Anya sighed, settling her forehead down on Raven’s shoulder. “God, I hope Lexa’s alright.”

“And Clarke.” Raven responded lowly.

“And Clarke.” Anya amended, her tone implying that she obviously meant that as well.

“Why aren’t we with them?” Raven demanded, slapping her hand against the marble of the staircase.

“We don’t know where Bellamy took her. Only Lexa did.” Anya sighed.

“Why didn’t she fucking wait two seconds for backup?”

“Raven, this goes further back than you can imagine. This is her fight. Maybe Clarke’s. And ours, too. But she had to do that alone.”

Raven turned to face Anya with an expression of shock. “Are you seriously still supporting her decisions? Even after that?”

Anya gave her a wry smile. “Lexa knows what she’s doing.”

Raven snorted. “I thought love was blindness? Isn’t that a favorite quote for you Grounders?”

Love.

The concept was so strange to Anya. She’d only ever felt love for Lexa, and Lincoln. Familial love, and attraction to Lincoln. She wasn’t quite sure she knew what love entailed.

She wasn’t sure about the fluttering in her chest when Raven glanced at her with those hazel eyes.

She knew she’d never felt that before, either.

It was far too early, in the midst of such a trying time, to know for certain.

But she could take solace in the fact that, whatever it was stirring within her heart, Raven seemed to be reciprocating it.

Anya leaned her head on Raven’s shoulder, closing her eyes momentarily. Rest was much needed, but Lexa could have called her at any second.

Just when her eyes were beginning to feel heavy, they snapped open with the shock of the front door before them being nearly tore open in a flurry, revealing a panting Bellamy Blake, hair matted with sweat, eyes shocked.

Raven froze, eyes widening at the sight.

He looked like he was running from something entirely too deadly.

Anya tensed, reaching for her gun.

Bellamy was quicker on the draw, his pistol in hand in seconds, the safety switched off with his pointer finger as he drew a stabilizing breath.

Raven still hadn’t moved.

“Raven?” He whispered meekly.

In his own home. The ultimate betrayal.

Anya had to think that Lexa must have felt equally as shocked when Titus had stolen Clarke from under her roof.

Bellamy’s gun was trained on Anya, perceiving her to be the more immediate threat. Raven’s gun was just out of reach on the edge of the stairs, and her leg wasn’t quick enough to lunge. Instead, Raven put her hands up, as if to shield more of Anya’s body with her own, as she no doubt already was doing.

“Lexa.” Anya growled, her voice thick with the raw tension.

Bellamy’s gaze hardened. “I never saw her.”

“Clarke.” Raven demanded, her voice betraying her, sounding scratchy and unsure of itself.

Bellamy’s eyes darkened as he looked away guiltily.

“Oh, fuck…” Raven gasped, shaking her head. “Bellamy, you didn’t-”

“I did what I had to do.” Bellamy responded, his jaw clenching, his eyes looking like the wells of unshed tears.

“Why?” Raven whispered, tears forming in her eyes as well.

Bellamy’s trained hands didn’t waver on the weapon he had pointed at Anya and Raven, collectively. “Lexa…She made Lexa vulnerable.”

“So you used her?” Raven scoffed. “But that’s all we ever were to you, right? Fucking pawns?”

Bellamy let out a growl in frustration. “You all betrayed ME!” He roared, vein in his forehead prominent. “I did what I had to, to keep everyone safe! People rely on me!”

“They’re all dead!” Raven fired back. “Bodies, all over Lexa’s fucking floor! I had to bury them!” She cried, unforgiving, her teeth clenching in anger.

Bellamy flinched, visibly bothered by this. “Lexa killed them.” He whispered. “Not me.”

“You know what?” Raven scoffed. “You keep saying that! You keep demonizing her, but it’s YOU, Bellamy! You’re the monster! Finn?”

Bellamy took a step backwards, gun still raised threateningly.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Raven sobbed, and Anya’s very soul ached. “I thought he took his own life! I thought it was us who caused him that pain! I had to live with myself!” Raven snapped. “And Clarke! Did you think about how it would affect her?”

Bellamy shook his head. “He was a danger-”

“You made him a danger!” Raven growled. “You put the gun in his hand, you pulled the trigger!”

Bellamy’s interruption was mighty, causing Anya to even flinch slightly. “I’m done!” He snapped. “I’m….I’m leaving…” he froze in the doorframe. “I came to take my things, to….to go. Put the gun down, or I will shoot. I’m so sorry, Raven.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Raven’s face was one of disbelief, while Anya wore a smirk.

“He’s scared.” Anya muttered, gun lowering as she acquiesced to his threats.“Lexa has him scared. He’s out of cards. He’s out of pawns. It’s over.”

“Anya no!” Raven hissed, immediately recognizing Bellamy’s tensing as he trained his gun on Anya first, prepared to clear his own path.

The shot was loud, deafeningly so, reverberating throughout the halls of the entire entryway, and Raven felt herself reaching subconsciously for Anya’s hand.

The sweet kiss of death was welcomed, so long as they were together.

When Raven opened her eyes, whipping her head around to inspect her bleeding girlfriend, she found that Anya was untouched, not a single hair on her head astray.

Instead she was protectively gripping Raven, breathing equally as hard as she waited for the end.

It never came.

Bellamy was on the floor, clutching his left leg as crimson blood, thick and unmistakable, oozed out of his leg, well below the femoral artery.

Raven’s eyes widened, and though she could barely hear, due to the ringing in her ear and Bellamy’s cries of pain, her vision was ever clear.

Standing above him was his very own sister, Octavia holding the gun with trembling hands as she bit her lip, refraining from bending over to help him in a show of mercy. She’d already stopped herself from giving him a fatal shot.

Wasn’t that enough?

He was stopped in his tracks. His fate was sealed. 

Lexa could decide what to do with him. Octavia wanted no part in that. 

Lincoln was behind her, gun also drawn, gaze flicking to Anya. They shared curt nods, a secret sort of Grounder code for “all clear”, before their attention was returned to their significant others.

Octavia’s lip was trembling, but she held her chin up, light washing over her pale skin, her cobalt gaze looking all kinds of tortured as she whispered, “You can’t run away. You’re the disease, Bellamy.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of Clexa, but I've already begun the next chapter and its Clexa-feels filled. This is not the grand final confrontation don't worry, I know how thirst y'all are to see Clexa (maybe when Clarke's not on the brink of death), Lexa kicking Bellamy's ass, Murphy's fate, TITUS (I HAVE PLANS FOR HIM) etc. Hopefully I'll see you all in a week, if I can manage? Otherwise, all my works will be put off until I return in July! 
> 
> Follow me @ effortlessly-opulent on tumblr! Harass me with questions, chat me up, ask me for spoilers...whatever you fancy ;)
> 
> Thank you for leaving such kind comments and kudos. It's been a ride, and I always love reading your thoughts afterwards!


	24. Begin to Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa deal with differing opinions over Bellamy's fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the major delays on this. 
> 
> To make it up to you, it's a 10k chapter, longest one yet. 
> 
> I could go on listing all the issues: Broken laptop, busy travel schedule, etc. But I haven't forgotten! This is un-beta'd and extremely liable to have typos and a few errors. I will try to smooth everything out as soon as I get a chance. Once again, apologies!
> 
> Warning: This chapter features violence, and several major deaths.

Lexa was, unfortunately, beginning to acclimate to the bustle of the emergency room, far more than any one person ever really needed to.

She had sat there for hours, ignoring every single call, from Anya, from Gustus, Indra, anyone and everyone. She’d seen the staff wheel John Murphy away, and then Clarke.

Her Clarke. Who was very much alive.

Costia was dead.

Lexa felt an absolute whirlwind of emotion, with great peaks and absolutely unbearable lows. She couldn't bring herself to cry; she felt incredibly numb inside.

Everything was Clarke.

“Lexa.” Abby’s voice was soft and uncharacteristically warm as she sat down beside Lexa in the private waiting area of her wing in the hospital.

Lexa’s eyes shot open as she felt herself pushed back into her chair by Abby, keeping her from getting up unnecessarily.

“Abby.” Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat. “Clarke. Please tell me-”

“She’s just fine.” Abby cleared her throat. “Or…she will be. After a lot of rest and relaxation, which I’m sure you’ll give her.”

Lexa fought off the tears that welled in her eyes. She shook her head weakly. Abby frowned, rubbing a hand on Lexa’s shoulder.

“You won’t?”

“I can’t.” Lexa croaked. She hated how weak she sounded. “I…She’s in this because of me.”

Abby sighed. “Lexa, don’t tell me-”

“I’m dangerous, Dr. Griffin.” Lexa hissed. “I am a killer.”

Abby didn’t flinch. “And?”

“And?” Lexa mocked incredulously. “Clarke is endangered with me.”

“She loves you.” Abby answered calmly.

“And, believe me Dr. Griffin, I love Clarke more than I ever have loved, or will love anything or anyone in my life.” Lexa practically whimpered.

Abby’s heart lurched at the confession. Even given the circumstance, it was oddly beautiful. “Then you feel the same way Clarke does.”

Lexa nodded without hesitation. “More, even. Clarke is everything, Dr. Griffin.”

Abby chanced a small smile. “Then you know how heartbroken she’d be if you left her.”

Lexa bit back a sob. “But…if she’s alive…”

“That’s not living.” Abby shook her head. “Listen, I haven’t seen Clarke in years. But I know my daughter. I know when she’s happy, fulfilled. Lexa, you give her that. You can’t just…erase that.”

Lexa bit her lip. She knew every single word out of Abby’s mouth was true.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” Lexa admitted brokenly.

Abby nodded, rubbing Lexa’s back. “Echo says your people are trying to contact you. She’s the one who patched Clarke up.”

Lexa grit her teeth. “They can wait.”

Abby bit back a chuckle. “Would you like to see her? Clarke’s not awake yet,  but-”

Lexa was already out of her seat, eyes pleading for Abby to lead her to her love.

“Lexa.” Abby spoke firmly as she led Lexa through the bustling halls, sticking closely to the alls and out of the way of the hospital staff. “Clarke’s broken a rib, suffered a mild concussion, and, well…she might seem a bit different, upon waking up.”

Lexa’s heart dropped. “What do you mean? Memory loss?”

Abby shook her head, a wry smile on her looks. She was truly a woman of surprises. “Oh, Lexa, there isn’t a force in this world that could make Clarke forget about you. No, I just meant she might be a little out of it. Take it slow, alright?”

“Of course.” Lexa exhaled in relief.

“Alright. She’s right through-Oh. Looks like she’s up.” Abby murmured with a soft smile as Echo turned around to nod to Abby, and then Lexa, clipboard in hand.

Clarke was leaning back on the bed, head propped up by pillows, looking absolutely exhausted. And yet, the moment Lexa stepped in, her eyes absolutely lit up, and she broke out into a grin.

“Everything seems to be fine.” Echo murmured, going into technicalities, Abby pulling her out of the room to give Lexa and Clarke a little privacy. The door shut behind them, and Lexa knew she had mere moments.

“Clarke.” She breathed, stepping forward to come to Clarke’s side, surprised that Clarke had the strength to reach out for her, wordlessly willing Lexa to her fingertips.

“Lexa.” Clarke reciprocated, wincing as she fought through the pain to wrap her arms around Lexa’s waist, leaning against her with what little strength she had left.

“How are you feeling?” Lexa murmured.

“Kiss me, and ask again.” Clarke whispered, watching as Lexa bent down without argument, lips catching Clarke’s in a soft, lush embrace.

Clarke frowned, pausing. “You can kiss me, Lex, I won’t break.”

Lexa bit her lip. “You almost did.” She whispered. “Again. It’s my fault. I-”

“Shut up.” Clarke demanded in a whisper, tugging Lexa back against her lips. “I know you’re blaming yourself, but stop. I chose you. I chose this life. I love you. Now, kiss your injured girlfriend.”

Lexa blinked back tears she felt pooling in her eyes once more, coughing out a shaky laugh, gently leaning in to kiss Clarke with fervor. Clarke groaned slightly against her lips and Lexa leaned back enough to cup her face, placing a kiss on each cheek, on Clarke’s nose, and her forehead. “I love you more.” She whispered quietly.

Clarke sighed in contentment as Lexa pulled up the chair beside her, hand lacing with Clarke’s all the while.

“So.” Clarke blinked hazily. “Are you going to tell me what happened? Echo told me that Murphy’s okay, thanks to you.”

Lexa nodded, eyes widening slightly when Clarke brought her hands up to her lips to kiss them in gratitude.

“You’re a hero, Lexa.”

Lexa winced. “I’m a murderer, Clarke.”

Clarke looked as if she’d been slapped in the face. Of course. Costia. She’d nearly forgotten, it all seemed like a hazy dream. Her heart rate picked up, and she was grateful she wasn’t hooked to a monitor.

“Lexa.” Clarke spoke gently. “Look at me.”

Lexa obeyed, ever loyal to Clarke’s wishes.

“You are not a murderer.” Clarke’s words were firm, carrying a truth Lexa was unable to parse. “You saved my life. I…it’s my fault you had to choose. I know you two had a history-”

Lexa’s forest green eyes found Clarke’s loving gaze and she found that she would, given the chance, kill Costia over and over again if it meant preserving Clarke’s life.

“You.” Lexa spoke sharply, in a hushed whisper.

“What?” Clarke asked, heart racing. So Lexa did blame her?

“I would choose you.” Lexa clarified, and Clarke’s heart guiltily soared despite the gravity of the situation. “Clarke, I would choose you again and again, always. You're it for me…” She murmured.

Clarke fought back tears as she caressed Lexa’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, Lexa.”

“I’m not.” Lexa managed weakly.

Costia, once the love of Lexa’s life, once the most important person in the world to her…dead by Lexa’s own hand. All for Clarke.

Clarke’s expression softened and she leaned over to comfort Lexa, wincing in pain when she felt a sharp pain in her side. Lexa was immediately shaken from her reverie.

“Clarke!” Lexa hissed softly, eyes clouding with concern. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“Then come here.” Clarke grumbled, patting the bed beside her.

Lexa cocked a brow, voice unsteady. “I could hurt you.”

“Please pretend you’re in love with me for five minutes.” Clarke teased hoarsely.

“You know I love you.” Lexa retorted gently, setting her bag aside as she gingerly climbed atop the bed, strong arms enveloping Clarke very softly. “I’m here, Clarke.” She whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

Clarke nuzzled Lexa’s neck, feeling at home in her lover’s arms. “Bellamy got away. I’m so sorry.” She muttered.

Unbeknownst to Lexa, Bellamy was captive in Anya’s clutches, hence the billion calls she’d received earlier. But of course, Clarke was her only priority, and she hadn't yet mustered the strength to even glance at her phone..

“Do you think I care about anything other than you?” Lexa whispered.

Clarke breathed softly against Lexa’s neck, enjoying the way Lexa traced small patterns on her back. “Your people-”

“Come second to you.” Lexa finished quietly, almost abashedly. “Clarke, I…I thought you died. For a moment, my life ended.”

“Lexa…” Clarke whispered, tracing her jawline with the tips of her fingers.

“I mean it, Clarke. I was so…terrifying. I…I….killed Dax, I-“ Lexa's horrified stumbling was hushed by Clarke kissing her jaw.

“Stop.” Clarke whispered. “You're good, Lexa. You did what you had to do. And no one would ever hold it against you, certainly not me, okay?” She croaked. “I love you. All of you. Every side of you, every emotion, every conflict. You're mine, okay?”

Lexa exhaled with a slow nod, nuzzling the soft skin of Clarke’s neck. She pressed a kiss there, gentle, stopping when she felt Clarke tense beneath her. “Clarke?” She prodded. “What's the matter?”

Clarke's cheeks reddened slightly when she shyly admitted, “You just…have an effect on me.”

Lexa graced her with a little smirk against her skin. “You still give me butterflies, Clarke. Even now that we’re together…” She added, lacing their fingers together.

“I know.” Clarke hummed in agreement, rolling her eyes. “I can't believe our honeymoon was interrupted.”

Lexa cocked a brow. “Our honeymoon?”

Clarke nodded. “Isn't that what it was? A lot of…love making, eating, and just…bliss…” She exhaled wistfully.

Lexa’s lips ghosted over the shell of her ear. “I can give that to you, Clarke,” she promised slowly. “We’ve suffered enough.”

Clarke hummed in contentment. “Tell me about it,” she pleaded softly.

Lexa smiled as Clarke closed her eyes, leaning on her chest. “Lazy mornings and breakfast in bed…” She whispered. “After long evenings of me loving and worshipping every inch of your body.”

Clarke was clearly reacting to Lexa's whispers, cuddling deeper into her girlfriend’s arms. “What about work?”

“I'll resign.” Lexa murmured devotedly.

Clarke, of course, didn't think Lexa was being serious at all.

“And me?” Clarke teased.

“Clarke, you'd never work a day if you didn't want to.” Lexa whispered, lips brushing against her ear, settling on her jaw.

“And we could just…stay in bed?” Clarke mumbled softly.

“Mhmm,” Lexa hummed affirmatively against her skin. Her heart lit up at the thought of life with Clarke. “I wouldn't let you out of my sight.”

“That's…enticing, Ms.Woods.” Clarke spoke gently. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"

Lexa nodded, kissing Clarke's cheek affectionately. 

"Remember when you took me on our first date?" Clarke smirked, running her fingers up Lexa's back. "And then drugged me and kidnapped me?" 

Lexa looked like she hated herself. "I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for that." Lexa acknowledged with a whisper. 

Clarke frowned. "I mean, I didn't enjoy it, but...You did what was right for your people. And you didn't hurt me. You were gentle." Clarke reminded softly, kissing Lexa's pouting bottom lip. 

"I was falling in love with you." Lexa admitted, a tinge of amusement to her tone. "Clarke, I was terrified." She murmured, peppering Clarke's face with kisses. 

"All the way from then?" Clarke looked smug. "I really did a number on you, didn't I?" 

"Yes." Lexa answered honestly. "Gustus tried to warn me...but I was already in love." Lexa breathed softly, taking in the scent of her love. 

Clarke smiled softly, getting butterflies at Lexa's words. "I loved you then, too. You were just so...stoic." 

"I was being a good Heda." Lexa defended softly. 

"Now you're my Heda." Clarke teased, curling further into Lexa's embrace. 

Lexa's answer of, "Yours to command." Almost surprised Clarke. It was thrilling to have Lexa give all of herself up like that, to Clarke, and only to Clarke. "But that was then." 

"I liked the restaurant. The one from our date." Clarke murmured hazily, and Lexa had to believe the drugs she was on had some effect on her dreamy behavior. 

"Yeah?" Lexa smiled into Clarke's skin. 

"I'm just really in love with you." Clarke mumbled. Lexa's eyes glazed over with affection. 

Definitely a little high. 

"I love you more, Clarke. I'll have to take you out more, then." 

"Really?" Clarke mumbled into the crook of Lexa's neck. 

"We've only just really gotten together, Clarke." Lexa smiled softly. "I'll romance you properly, now." 

Clarke grinned. "I can't wait." 

Lexa kissed Clarke's head, sighing contentedly. How had Clarke become everything to her? 

Clarke stifled a yawn, wanting instead to stare into Lexa's gaze for as long as she could. 

“Please rest, my love.” Lexa pleaded, immediately reading her expression.

“Would you stay?” Clarke asked, voice small.

“I am never leaving your side again,” Lexa sighed in exasperation at her earlier mistakes.

“Good. Then you can sleep too.” Clarke murmured, kissing Lexa’s shoulder.

“I should keep an eye out.” Lexa protested, but found that now that Clarke was safely in her embrace, sleep could come easily.

She could feel Clarke's heartbeat, and she listened softly, amazed at how that steady rhythmic beating dictated her world, her actions, her thoughts.

“Thank you for saving me.” Clarke mumbled hazily, half asleep, bruised face buried in Lexa's chest.

“Thank you for loving me.” Lexa murmured, smiling tiredly when she felt Clarke’s lips graze her chest in response.

* * *

 

Lexa’s phone began buzzing incessantly during the course of her rest, Clarke curled up in her arms, practically passed out in exhaustion, wincing with every breath from her bruised ribs and battered body. Lexa eyed the cut on her plump lips and felt rage swell within her.

She wasn’t sure how she’d fallen so deeply for Clarke. She remembered being annoyed by her audacity, her lies, the constant prying into her affairs. She wasn’t even sure of when exactly she’d fallen. But she had, and god, it was the best kind of love. It was blurry, messy, fast and compromising. It had ruin Lexa’s plans, it had shattered her duties, her responsibilities, her oaths.

And Lexa didn’t care.

She felt free, light…even happy, when she was with Clarke. She didn’t need to analyze it. She didn’t need to explain herself. She simply needed to be there for her. To love her, and to protect her. She might have been Heda, but she was first and foremost Clarke’s Lexa.

And right now, Clarke was not happy.

Lexa fumbled with one hand for her phone, trying to shut off the noise, but she was too slow. Clarke blinked hazily, her face buried in Lexa’s neck. “Lexa.” She wheezed tiredly.

“I’m so sorry.” Lexa practically growled. “Let me take this.”

“If you get up, I will end you.” Clarke threatened sleepily, nuzzling into Lexa’s neck with a sigh.

“Clarke, I have missed calls from Gustus, Anya-”

“Take them.” Clarke muttered. “Right here.”

Lexa shot her a dubious look.

“Unless you’re lying to me again?” Clarke asked, seemingly more awake.

“I promised I never would again.” Lexa whispered sternly, shaking her head.

 “Then take it here.”

“You need to rest.” Lexa argued, voice unwavering.

“Wow. I may have caught the Commander but I certainly didn’t soften her up.” Clarke grumbled bitterly.

Lexa bit back a wry smile at Clarke’s antics. “Not when it comes to your safety or health, Clarke.”

Clarke smiled against her skin, gingerly raising a hand to cup Lexa’s cheek, leaning back to look into her emerald gaze.

“Clarke…” Lexa breathed for no reason in particular, except perhaps to hear the way it tasted like sweet honey on her lips.

“We made it.” Clarke gave her a soft smile, rubbing Lexa’s cheek with her thumb.

“I could have done more.” Lexa bit her lip. “I will always live with the guilt of not being able to protect you.”

“I’m here, Lexa.” Clarke shook her head as much as she could. “You saved me. And fell in love with me, which is more than I bargained for. You’re so soft, and warm hearted, and good. I see that. I won’t ever let you think otherwise; do you understand? You’re mine now, to take care of.”

“I should be taking care of you, I-” Lexa’s protests were cut off once more.

“Mine. Do you hear me?” Clarke practically growled against her lips.

“Yours.” Lexa whispered softly, leaning in to draw out Clarke’s bottom lip between her own.

Clarke whined softly, feeling a familiar heat coursing through her broken body, seemingly mending all her wounds. Lexa parted, looking particularly concerned.

“Sorry.” Clarke mumbled, hands tracing Lexa’s tattooed bicep. “I just…really want you.”

“You have me.” Lexa’s response was immediate, as she placed a kiss to Clarke’s forehead.

“Not like that.” Clarke replied, cheeks tinged and rosy. “I _want_ you…now.”

“Oh.” Lexa’s mouth dried slightly as her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t understand how Clarke still had that effect on her. “Clarke, Echo said-”

“I know what she said.” Clarke snapped. “I’m a doctor too, you know.”

Lexa gave her an amused smirk. “You must be feeling better.”

Clarke pinched her arm in annoyance, leaning up to kiss her girlfriend with intentions of showing her just how she was feeling, when Lexa’s phone went off once more.

Lexa yanked it out of her pocket and slammed the green answer button, holding it towards her ear with her free hand.

“Anya, this better be god damned important.”

“We apprehended Blake. His sister shot him in the leg, we have him temporarily patched up. Roan found Titus trying to flee on his side of the border. They’re being held in Emerson’s old place, awaiting your orders.”

Lexa’s eyes went wide, her heart stopping at the notion. This was what she’d wanted. This was what she’d feared. She wanted to see Bellamy pay in blood, but she couldn’t expect Clarke to ever regard her with the same adoration she felt. And Titus. God, the things she wanted to do to Titus.

“Lexa.” Clarke sat up, growling in pain as she fought it off. “What the hell is going on?”

Lexa remained stoic, silent, unmoving.

“Lexa.” Anya’s voice was pouring with concern. “Is that Clarke? Is she stable?”

“Lex.” Clarke shook her shoulder gently. “Is that Anya?”

“Lexa?”

“Alexandria?”

“ _Heda_?”

They bombarded her with calls for attention.

Lexa remained unresponsive, biting her lip indecisively. She turned to Clarke, taking in a sharp breath.

“We have captured Bellamy Blake. He awaits execution.”

* * *

 

“Execution?” Clarke sputtered. “No authorities? No trial? No arrests?”

She faltered then, seemingly realizing that he had not given any of his victims such luxuries. She instantly regretted the words she’d just carelessly thrown out, but Lexa seemed unfazed.

Lexa had muttered a few quick words in trigedasleng to Anya before silencing her phone, turning as if to leave the hospital bed.

Clarke was keen on following. “Lexa, wait!”

Lexa turned to see Clarke attempting to tear out her iv drip, and she immediately snapped back to reality, catching Clarke’s hand, pinning it above her with gritted teeth.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s tone was brimming with concern. “Don’t you dare.”

“Me?” Clarke, clearly affronted, scoffed. “Don’t you walk away Lexa.”

Lexa eyed her with an apologetic glance. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.” Clarke gritted. “I can’t believe you. After everything you just told me-”

“I was told not to put you under stress, Clarke.” Lexa fired back. “You already know too much for someone in your condition, I-”

“Alexandria fucking Woods.” Clarke hissed, yanking Lexa down by her shirt.

Lexa, although trained in about fifty different ways to disarm and subdue Clarke, made not a single move to defend herself from her girlfriend’s fury. “Clarke, I-”

“What are you going to do?” Clarke whispered, tone softening. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” Lexa asked softly, taking a breath as Clarke’s hands came to cup her cheeks.

“Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Clarke murmured. “Stop, for a moment, hear me out.”

Lexa’s bottom lip was trembling. “He…he has to die, Clarke. I’m so sorry, for you, but I can’t save him. I….I don’t even want to. I know you thought I was better than this, but I’m not. He needs to stand to justice, like Costia.”

“I know.” Clarke nodded, voice small, eyes glazed over with wetness. “I don’t blame you.”

“You shouldn’t have to choose.” Lexa whispered.

“I chose a long time ago.” Clarke told her. “I chose you, so we can make this decision together, alright? However we move forward, and we will, I’m by your side, okay?”

Lexa nodded slowly, clutching Clarke as if she were the last thing anchoring Lexa to this world.

 And she was.

“Now, help me get out of here. We need to see the others.” Clarke grunted, quite obviously battling with the pain that threatened to overtake her features.

Lexa’s expression hardened at that. “You’re staying here until you’re cleared, Clarke.” Her words had the very same bite that attracted Clarke to Lexa in the first place.

“Lexa.” Clarke’s sigh was pleading. “Don’t do this without me. A minute ago you were telling me you didn’t care if you caught Bellamy. What changed?”

Lexa’s gaze flickered away from Clarke’s. “I don’t want you to have to see…whatever happens.”

“You don’t protect me anymore.” Clarke’s whisper was gentle.

“I’ll always protect you.” Lexa shook her head.

“From this? You can’t.” Clarke took Lexa’s hand, squeezing it. “I have as much a right to be there as everyone else.”

Lexa’s eyes were begging Clarke to rethink her decision. “Clarke-”

“This is what I want, Lex.” Clarke breathed.

Lexa took a breath, a momentary pause, as if she were about to fatally end their relationship on that bitter note. But then, she nodded. “We can hold him until you’re ready, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded. “I’ll tell Echo to get me bandaged up.”

* * *

 

Raven was shaking. With anger, with leftover adrenaline and fear, with hatred. Anya hadn’t seen this kind of anger since Bellamy’s stunt with Lincoln’s leg in the hospital, when she herself had nearly lost it.

Anya quietly made her way over Raven, who’d been angrily sitting on the stairs of Lexa’s home, where they’d all agreed to wait for Clarke and Lexa. They’d sent Indra to watch over their captive prisoners over at Emerson’s old turf, just in case Roan had any ulterior motives.

 Raven had been momentarily elated that Lexa had saved Clarke, but it quickly faded when she’d remembered the events of the day prior. She practically growled when she remembered her actions when held at gunpoint…or lack thereof.

“Reyes.” Anya’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. Raven glanced up into her lover’s eyes.

“I fucked up.” The first words that came from her mouth were uncensored, short sighted, and directly from her battered heart.

“You didn’t.”

“Don’t baby me, Anya.” Raven growled lowly. “I thought you were different.”

Anya rolled her eyes. Raven had quite the stubborn flair for the dramatic. “Reyes. You froze up. It happens to our people all the time, when they’re in the middle of a heated situation. It’s called nerves, and-”

“You got in front of me.” Raven spoke cuttingly, lowly, brushing a loose, fallen strand from her ponytail out of her face. “That should have been me.”

Anya snorted. “Don’t compare heroics, Raven.”

Raven’s eyes looked hallow. “I could’ve lost you.”

“You didn’t.” Anya shook her head. “And you know what? That’s not what this is about. That isn’t why you’re angry.”

“Yeah?” Raven shot back, voice echoing throughout the expansive halls. “Tell me why, then.”

“You don’t hate him.” Anya answered solemnly. “Your body writhes with discomfort, not anger. You don’t feel right about capturing him. Likely, because you know what’s coming, and you can’t help but feel responsible.”

“There’s been blood on my hands before.” Raven gritted out.

“Not the blood of someone you loved.” Anya shrugged, expression stoic.

Raven had rage spilling over her gaze as she turned on Anya, yanking her down for a bruising kiss.

Anya sighed against her lips, arms wrapping around Raven tenderly, despite her aggression. Slowly, tears slid down Raven’s cheeks, and yet she wouldn’t cease. She kissed her fear, her hate, her anguish into Anya’s tender lips.

Anya let her, gently rocking her back and forth.

“It gets better.” Anya whispered.

Raven sniffled pathetically into her neck, gasping slightly for air. “You’re going to tell me that time heals all wounds?”

Anya let out a low chuckle. “You know, I think whoever said that must’ve been immortal…or at the very least, had an incredibly skewed concept of time. Because I’ve known hurt, in my life Reyes, and the years don’t do much to cushion the fall.”

“Then what does? How does it get better?” Raven asked bitterly.

“Love.” Anya sighed delicately into Raven’s ear, and she’d felt a warmth reawakened in the pit of her stomach, one that she hadn’t felt in years.

* * *

 

Octavia’s hand shook, so much so that Lincoln withdrew the gun she’d used to subdue Bellamy. They stood on Lexa’s front steps, giving Raven and Anya the privacy of the inside of the manor.

It had been a trying day for them all, it seemed.

Octavia paced around, waiting for Lexa, waiting for the end.

“Octavia.” Lincoln sighed, putting his hands on her shoulders, his limp acting up, tired from following Octavia pacing back and forth.

“You should sit.” Octavia’s voice was drier than she’d intended for the love of her life. “Your leg is going to be extra sore.”

Lincoln ignored her petty attempt at diverting the conversation. “Are we really not going to talk about this?”

“Talk about this?” Octavia scoffed, feeling a lot like Raven in that moment. “Talk about what? The fact that I shot my older brother? The one remaining member of my fucked up family? The fact that I just single handedly put him to death? Yeah, maybe not by my hand, but Lexa won’t hesitate. I knew that! I knew that, and I…I betrayed him.” Her voice quivered with self-hatred.

Lincoln’s jaw set. He never wanted this for Octavia. He never wanted any of this. But he knew she was right, and he knew Lexa’s decision was ultimately right as well. He was utterly torn, unsure of what petty words he could offer.

“Octavia.” He sighed, turning so that he could confront her cobalt gaze with a look of conviction. “You saved Raven, and Anya.”

Octavia bit her lip, seemingly forgetting that. “And I betrayed my own brother.”

“Blood isn’t thicker than water.” Lincoln argued softly. “Just because you shared his blood, it doesn’t make you responsible for the atrocities he committed.”

“But what if I don’t blame myself?” Octavia fired back. “What if I don’t blame him?”

Lincoln looked unconvinced. She was merely saying these things because she knew that her brother was likely going to meet his end. Not because she meant them, truly. “You wouldn’t have pulled the trigger if you didn’t think it was right.”

Octavia fought back the tears welling in her gaze. “How do you know that?”

“Because, I know you.” Lincoln replied steadily, cupping her cheeks. One glance down at his permanently wounded leg, and Octavia knew, she did the right thing. “Octavia. You have a fire in your soul, and a fierce need to protect your family.”

“Yeah?” Octavia hissed, her anger not directed at him, rather, herself. “Why did I royally fuck that up, then?”

“Because Bellamy isn’t your family.” Lincoln whispered, taking Octavia’s smaller hand in his, pressing it flat against his heart. “I am.” He took a breath. “Clarke, who protected your secret for so long, and loves you like a sister…She is.” He turned and pointed to the house. “Raven, who loved you so much that she followed you to Lexa’s side….She is your family, Octavia. Anya, whose life you just saved.” Lincoln took a breath. “Hell, even Lexa, whom you hate…She is your family.”

Octavia nodded slowly, burying her face into Lincoln’s neck.

“Octavia. If we leave now, no one will think any less of us. We won’t be branded cowards, and we can rest easy. We’ve done our part here.”

Octavia shuddered with the breath she took. “No.” She shook her head. “We stay, until the end.” She cleared her throat, trying to sound braver than she was.

“The Bellamy I once knew would’ve wanted that.”

* * *

 

Abby wasn’t able to flag down Clarke and Lexa until they had made it into Lexa’s car, forcing them to roll their windows in the parking lot.

“Clarke, are you kidding me?” Abby panted, a look of pure confusion on her face. “Your drugs just wore off! You need a new dose! You haven’t been cleared! You have at least two more days of recov-” Abby’s attempts were futile, as Clarke cut her off, squeezing her hand from the passenger window.

Lexa looked forward, silently, feeling guiltier with every word. Clarke needed to remain in the hospital, but since their agreement to share everything as equals, she found that Clarke often got whatever she wanted.

“Mom.” Clarke sighed. “I’m fine.”

Abby shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “What more possibly needs to be done, Clarke? How many times can a mother see her baby fall like this?”

Clarke held her mother’s hand against her cheek. “It’s over, mom.” She promised quietly. “No more injuries.”

“How can you be certain?” Abby asked quietly.

“It’s all over.” Clarke croaked, taking a breath. “Lexa and I really need to be somewhere, right now, mom.”

Abby’s brow furrowed helplessly. “Clarke.” She begged. “You need medical attention.”

Clarke sighed. “Mom.” She pleaded. “You don’t know what I’m capable of. I’m not the same girl you left, okay? I’m a doctor, mom. I can take care of myself…” She glanced back at Lexa. “And I don’t have to, anymore.”

“At least…let me check on you, tonight.” Abby pleaded. “Don’t just…fade out of my life again, Clarke.”

Clarke sighed, glancing into her mother’s eyes. “I’m not you, mom.” She promised, and though it was sharp and edged, it had merit and kindness to it. “How about you stop by Lexa’s and check on me tonight, okay?” Clarke bit her lip, turning to her girlfriend. “Lex? Is that alright.”

Lexa took a breath. “Of course.” She murmured, and Clarke turned back to her mother.

“So…” Abby breathed. “This is it for Bellamy.” She couldn’t believe Clarke had gotten in so deep. She was merely happy her daughter had chosen correctly with Lexa.

Clarke bit back a sob. “Mom.” She shook her head. “We…we tried to be the good guys…I…I couldn’t save him…”

Lexa bit her lip in disgust at herself, slamming her hand on the wheel with a thud. She hated causing Clarke this pain.

“Hey.” Abby’s voice steeled. “Listen to me, baby.” She tilted Clarke’s chin up, and their gazes met. “Maybe there are no good guys.”

Clarke sighed leaning into her mother’s touch. “Maybe not.” She whispered.

“I’ll be in touch.” Abby whispered, kissing Clarke’s forehead. She glanced at Lexa and reached in, squeezing her hand supportively. Lexa gave her a melancholy smile, and Clarke cocked a brow. Abby turned on her heel and left, white coat behind her in the breeze like a superhero.

Clarke turned, glancing at Lexa. “You banged your hand on the wheel.” She whispered. “The one I bandaged from your fight with Roan. Let me see it.”

Lexa waved her off. “Clarke, it’s fine.”

Clarke shook her head insistently, taking Lexa’s hand, inspecting the clean wrap. “My mom did this while I was out, right?”

Lexa nodded, and Clarke sighed in relief, bringing Lexa’s palm to her lips to kiss it.

Lexa was betrayed by the soft whine and sigh that escaped her lips.

“I love you.” Clarke whispered, clutching Lexa’s hand to her broken chest.

Lexa turned to Clarke, caressing the bruised side of her face. “And I love you.” She whispered back, feeling like a traitor saying it when she was to kill Bellamy in a few, short hours.

* * *

 

Lexa’s car rolled up to the estate with a smooth rolling stop. Lexa was quick to dart around to grab Clarke’s door, equal parts polite and terrified for Clarke’s health.

Lexa helped Clarke up slowly, her trained, killing hands ever so softly gripping Clarke’s arms as she handled her with tender care.

Clarke surprised her by pressing a quick kiss to her jaw as she struggled to stand. Lexa would have told her it was in inappropriate time for love and affection. Clarke didn’t believe in such a policy. Now was especially the time to remind Lexa how much she loved her.

“Easy, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, allowing Clarke to lean all her weight on her as they made their way to the front door. “May I carry you?”

Clarke wanted to chuckle at Lexa’s persistently romantic, caring endeavors. “Lexa, I need to do this, okay?”

“You don’t.”

“I want to.” Clarke replied firmly.

Octavia had her face buried in Lincoln’s neck when they came into view. She glanced up, cobalt eyes locking with Clarke’s cerulean gaze. The mixture of blues were then wet by tears, as well.

“Clarke!” Octavia called, taking off like a bullet towards the blonde.

Lexa’s hand instinctively wrapped around Clarke protectively as she fired off a “She’s injured, Blake, take caution.”

Clarke hid her smile at Lexa’s protective nature, stowing the moment away for later, when she could reward Lexa for it properly.

“Hey, O.” Clarke breathed as she gingerly detached from Lexa, wrapping her arms around the younger girl.

“I’m so sorry.” Octavia shook when she mustered up the will to speak. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“Stop.” Clarke shook her gently, feeling the aftershock and wincing when she felt it in her ribs. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lexa tense at Clarke’s pain, pausing mid-hug with Lincoln. “You’re not him, Octavia.”

Octavia bit her lip. “I’m glad you’re okay, Clarke.” She settled, turning when she heard the front door open.

“Clarke!” Raven, whose eyes fared no better, equally tearstained and puffy, limped out, hobbling towards Clarke. Anya came out behind her, but her eyes were trained on her Commander and Lincoln.

The divide was formed wordlessly as Raven threw her arms around Octavia and Clarke, the girls seemingly sharing their sorrows without voice. Raven cupped Clarke’s cheeks, inspecting her battered face.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” Octavia whispered, feeling more and more justified with her decision with each passing second.

Clarke tried to shrug it off, still numb. Lexa had warned her that post-traumatic stress disorder might have been in the cards, and it was too early to tell. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Fuck.” Raven breathed. “I thought we lost you for sure, Griffin.”

“Apparently I’m more resilient than previously thought.” Clarke sighed, allowing both girls to hold her upright

Their gazes turned when they saw the small group of their significant others, forming not unlike them. Anya cupped Lexa’s cheeks, kissing her forehead in relief, like a worried older sister. Lincoln was murmuring something unintelligible and Anya seemed to be supporting his statement.

Octavia blew out a breath. “How did we get here?” She laughed, but it was dry, humorless. It gave Clarke chills.

“Where is here?” Raven scoffed wryly. “You mean fucking the enemy and killing our own?”

The words made Clarke flinch. She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s so simple. Like it’s black and white. You know it’s not. They’re not the enemy. And we love them…”

“I wish it were black and white. The way Bellamy saw things.” Raven shrugged, kicking at the expensive cobblestone driveway beneath her boot. She spoke about him as if he’d already died, and that didn’t sit well with Octavia. “At least that way we could pull the trigger and sleep at night feeling absolved.”

Octavia stifled a breath at the harshness of Raven’s words, and Clarke lightly touched her shoulder.

Clarke’s eyes found Lexa’s soft green gaze, and she felt her entire body seemingly gravitate towards her. Clarke sighed, never breaking her gaze. “We should go inside and figure out how we end this day.”

* * *

 

“Clarke.” Lincoln embraced her with warm, muscled arms, and Clarke buried her face in his shoulder. “You’re a survivor.”

Clarke nodded wordlessly, sighing into his embrace. “I heard about what you and Octavia did. To Bellamy.” Her voice was low, so that no one else could hear. Lexa watched from across the room, her jaw set slightly. Clarke wasn’t sure if it was irritation at the situation or the fact that she and Lincoln shared such a close bond, but either way, she kept her distance.

“Octavia hates herself.” Lincoln’s whisper was hoarse.

“So does Lexa.” Clarke whispered back, eyes full of sadness.

“How do we convey something like that?” Lincoln asked thoughtfully.

“Convey what?” Clarke mumbled, trying to understand his train of thought.

“How do we make them love themselves as much as we love them?” Lincoln asked softly. “How can I tell Octavia that, whatever happens here today, no one will blame her?”

Clarke snorted apologetically into his shirt. “We chose stubborn people, Linc.”

Lincoln gave her a sad smile. “We did, didn’t we?” He took a moment to collect himself and Clarke pushed off gently, enough to gaze into his warm brown eyes. She found that they were much colder, heavier, than she’d anticipated.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She prodded knowingly. “You, Lexa, Anya….You’ve all been stoic from the minute we got here. What don’t we know?”

Lincoln shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“You know; you’re sounding a lot like Lexa right now.” Clarke pressed.

Lincoln sighed, running a hand behind his neck uncomfortably. He glanced up, quickly averting his gaze when it was met with Lexa’s disapproving stare. “There is a tradition, to be upheld.”

“Okay, that’s…cryptic.” Clarke sighed. “What are you talking about, Lincoln? Tell me. I can handle it.”

Lincoln took a breath. “You know our version of “an eye for an eye”? Jus Drein Jus Daun? Blood must have blood?”

Clarke nodded, gaze darkening. “I’m familiar with it.”

Lincoln looked uncomfortable telling Clarke the next bit, but the fire in her gaze compelled him nonetheless. “You suffer what you have done unto others.” He sighed. “The principle remains the same.”

Clarke nodded slowly. “So what does this mean, for Bellamy?”

Lincoln blinked. “Bellamy’s reign is to blame for the deaths of nearly seventy people, over the years.”

Clarke gaped, visibly paling. “Seventy?” She hissed.

“More or less.” Lincoln spoke softly, as if to cushion the next part.

Clarke looked like she was going to faint. “How the fuck do you punish someone for seventy lives?” Clarke hissed once more.

Lincoln swallowed, glancing away. “You can’t. But those who suffered immediate loss…they may deliver a cut. You, Raven, myself…Anyone who has lost someone, or something, as a direct result of Bellamy’s actions. A cut for every offense. Superficial, so as not to end the suffering prematurely. The final blow, the Commander’s blow, is to the heart. Or the head. Depending on how brutal he or she is.”

Clarke wobbled, and Lincoln’s arm shot out to steady her.

“Clarke?” He whispered, eyes registering Lexa crossing the room in a fraction of a second.

“You can’t…” Clarke breathed. “That’s…barbaric….You can’t torture people to-”

“You told her?” Lexa asked, voice cold.

“She has a right to know.” Lincoln responded.

Clarke turned to Lexa. “You can’t be serious, Lexa.”

Lexa’s stoic expression was battered, momentarily, by a hurt gaze. “A word, Clarke.”

It wasn’t a question anymore, and Clarke was carried into the next room, Lexa closing the door behind them.

Just two days ago, Clarke and Lexa were giggling in the home library, going through old books together, laughing at the terrible romances.

Clarke’s world had been destroyed in a matter of two days.

“Clarke.” Lexa breathed, eyes full of fear, trying to steady her shaking girlfriend.

“Lexa.” Clarke choked out. “You, you can’t…”

“Clarke.” Lexa grit out, trying to get her to stop talking.

“Lexa!” Clarke tore her hand free from her grip. “Don’t tell me to calm down.”

Lexa recoiled, her hands limply falling to her sides.

“What are you?” Clarke demanded in an angry whisper. “This is barbaric. You’re supposed to be better than them! Who has traditions like this? You’re a gang, for fuck’s sake, not-”

Lexa’s voice was uneven with anger. “If you lost everyone you loved, would you not want them avenged?”

Clarke sucked in a breath. “It’s not about what I want! It’s about what’s right!”

“Right?” Lexa sneered, resembling the Commander Clarke had come to know over the year. “If Bellamy Blake wanted people to do right by him, he shouldn’t have slaughtered them!”

Clarke took a step back at the harshness of Lexa’s words. “You…you can’t think this is right, Lexa.”

Lexa lifted her chin defiantly. “I do, Clarke. A cut for every sin.”

Clarke’s voice quaked, and it pained Lexa to hear it. “How many would you have, then?” Clarke whispered. “I…I couldn’t let them do this to you, so how could I condone it now?”

Lexa ignored her statement, ignored the way her heart lifted when Clarke admitted that. “You knew Bellamy was to die, today. And you didn’t have an issue with it.”

“Death and torture are not the same.” Clarke protested.

“Death is an honor reserved for honorable people.” Lexa shot back.

Clarke couldn’t argue with that, as cold as it was. “Lexa. He…committed atrocities. I’m not blind to that. But he did them with the mindset of protecting his people…Protecting me…”

“And that justifies it?” Lexa hissed.

“Lex.” Clarke whimpered. Lexa’s face reluctantly softened at the nickname. “Yesterday, you thought I was dead.”

Lexa’s face contorted to a painful expression. “Don’t bring that up.” She whispered.

“You thought, for a moment, you could save me.” Clarke whispered back. “And the things you did...you did out of love.”

“That doesn’t justify them.” Lexa sniffed.

“So you should die for it?” Clarke pressed, taking a step forward, invading Lexa’s space.

“Yes.” Lexa whispered.

Clarke’s eyes had a fire in them as she pressed Lexa back against the wall. “So, in your world, everyone dies, right? Everyone who has blood on their hands. Who lives, Lexa? When does the cycle end?”

Lexa’s chest was heaving as she did nothing to push Clarke away, her words sinking into her war addled mind. “I…told you.” Lexa sighed.

“Told me what?” Clarke demanded.

“I told you that you couldn’t love me once we caught Bellamy.” Lexa whispered, her voice absolutely aching with the realization.

Clarke’s expression softened. “How could you think that I’d ever stop loving you?” Clarke sighed, pressing her forehead against Lexa’s. She didn’t let Lexa answer. “Lexa. I…No matter what decision you come away with, no matter what you do…I’m here. For you. Always. I’ve seen who you are when you don’t have the weight of your people on your shoulders. I love you both ways, all of the time. I’m doing this for you. I know how you’ll feel after you walk away from them tonight.” Clarke whispered, sighing softly when Lexa’s arms encircled her waist. “I want you to be light, and happy.” Clarke admitted gently.

“My people expect revenge.” Lexa whispered, holding Clarke dearly.

“Teach them.” Clarke urged softly.

“I can’t.” Lexa admitted miserably. “That’s not our way.”

“Then nothing changes.” Clarke promised, grazing her lips against Lexa’s. “I still love you, and we move on. Somehow.”

* * *

 

It was little more than cruel irony to have Bellamy executed where so much blood had been spilt already: Where Finn killed Lexa’s parents, and Costia had died. All causeless, bloody deaths.

It was far enough from the main road where no one would hear. The private property was under the Woods family name, and unfrequented by law enforcement, virtually off the radar. It was big enough for all of Lexa’s people to gather.

It was poetic justice.

No one expected Octavia and Lincoln to come to Bellamy’s execution. No one expected Clarke and Raven, either.

It seemed that Bellamy trained his people to be fearless, at the very least.

There were heated legions of Lexa’s Grounders, whispering and chanting like it was a damned sporting event, some barbaric gladiator fight of old. They’d gathered in a circular figure.

Lexa had spent nearly two hours arguing with Clarke if she could come. Lexa didn’t want her to see. Clarke had overpowered her.

Clarke felt sick to her stomach. It wasn’t merely Bellamy’s fate, but returning to the site of her beating, her semi torture. She was barely upright, her ribs aching, her hand clutching Lexa’s pathetically. The last thing she wanted was to make Lexa appear weak in front of her people, but she couldn’t help it.

Lexa, always good to her, held her hand without protest. She even gave it a reassuring squeeze, eventually moving behind Clarke so she could lean back on her. It was the little things that made Clark fall deeper for her with each passing second, despite the nature of their situation.

Lincoln held Octavia by the car, preparing her for what she’d see in the clearing. Clarke was amazed that she had the willpower to come. She wasn’t sure if Octavia would survive her brother’s slaughter.

Anya and Raven had sidled into the opening, shoulder to shoulder with the rest of Lexa’s people.

Roan dipped his head slightly and the chattering only increased when Lexa stepped in through the doors. Beside him were two of his people, holding a very fearful looking Titus, hands bound unforgivingly, face full of shame.

Lexa didn’t grimace. She didn’t look away from the traitor responsible for her parents’ deaths. She stared him dead in the eyes with a cold look when she muttered, “Throw him in with Blake. He suffers the same fate.”

Roan smirked when Lexa shoved a wad of cash in his hands from her back pocket. Clarke watched in shock.

“For your troubles.” Lexa muttered.

Roan, to Clarke’s surprise, shook his head, pushing the catch back. “I’m in your service, Heda. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

Lexa blinked in surprise, nodding slowly as she slipped the cash back into her pocket. So Roan had chosen to get into Lexa’s good graces. He was smart.

Roan eyed Clarke with his telltale smirk. “So, the little doctor has found her place with the Commander?”

Lexa tensed, cocking a perfectly sculpted brow. “If you so much as look at her, Roan, you will end up in the ground beside your mother.” Her words were icy, steely.

Roan put his hands up, shrugging. “If you can live with Lexa after today, you’re tougher than I thought.” He muttered.

Clarke shifted nervously, and Lexa glanced away. His words had merit.

Clarke’s eyes followed Roan as he strode into the circle, which immediately fell into a hushed silence. The huddled masses of bodies split like the red sea, and Clarke’s heart shattered when she saw Titus thrown down beside Bellamy, gagged, hands bound, on his knees before the crowd, who jeered at him.

In that moment, Clarke realized that he’d lost everything. He’d lost his family, his friends, his guards, his business. He had nothing left to live for. He’d lost Raven and Murphy, Monty and Dax, Octavia, Costia, and Clarke, the love of his life. He was a broken, shell of a man.

And Lexa wanted to crush him further.

And Clarke didn’t blame her.

When Clarke turned, Octavia was standing there, clutching Lincoln’s hand with one, and Raven’s with the other. There were unshed tears in her eyes.

Clarke felt like she was spinning, violently, thrown off keel and off balance. She turned and her eyes were met with Lexa’s steely green gaze. Her world suddenly focused.

“Clarke.” Lexa whispered, steadying her with hands on her shoulders.

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands shaky.

“I don’t want you to look.” Lexa pleaded softly.

“I can handle it.” Clarke breathed shakily. “Just do what needs to be done, okay?”

Lexa dipped her head once, reluctant to leave Clarke’s embrace at all. Clarke watched her as she lifted her chin, momentarily, scanning the clearing. Roan, who’d been rolling a silencer onto her chosen handgun, had the audacity to smirk when he handed it to her.

Clarke closed her eyes, reluctantly taking the moment in. Lexa looked like the angel of death once more, her black jacket hugging her slim yet broad shoulders, her tightly muscled arms. Her hair barely swayed in the breeze. She stepped within the ring, and everyone fell dead silent.

A few sniffles could be heard, mostly from Clarke’s people.

Lexa approached Titus first, ignoring Bellamy’s hard glare on her. She did not address her people, as this gripe was solely between her and the traitor to her family. She knelt down, gun in hand, eye to eye with Titus, gagged, eyes fearful.

He was shaking. Rightfully so. He knew, firsthand, what Lexa was capable of.

Lexa took a breath, before looking dead into his eyes as she spoke. “ Titus, you’ll die today for your betrayal after years of service to my family. For the deaths of my parents, who cared for you as one of their own. Cowardice such as yours does not deserve final words.”

And with that, Lexa rose, lifting the gun, arm extending.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

Clarke watched with wide, terrified eyes.

Titus shook, squirming even, but Lexa’s response was like lightning. She pulled the trigger once. That was all she needed.

The silencer was not as silent as Clarke had imagined. In fact, the dull crack of thunder was still there, as Titus’ head hit the loose gravel beneath him, dying it a crimson red for all to see. Lexa released the breath she’d been holding, hand absolutely still as she handed the gun to Roan, turning to face Bellamy.

Clarke felt her knees go weak, but willed herself to shut up. To keep sane. To be there, in full support of Lexa’s decisions. Of Lexa’s fucking execution of Titus. She hated the fact that she felt like it was justified. What a monster she’d become.

“And now.” Lexa cleared her throat.

Bellamy’s usually warm chocolate eyes were angry, hatred seeping through them.

“Bellamy Blake!” Lexa roared, and Octavia flinched. Her Grounders echoed their approval of Lexa’s show of dominance. “Your reign ends today. Countless people have suffered in your careless hands. You dismantled your own family. You forced yourself upon others.” A quick glance to Clarke had Lexa fuming. “You permanently wounded defenseless men.” Lexa called out, and Lincoln bowed his head shamefully. “You plotted, and executed the murder of my mother and father! Finn Collins was murdered to keep your bloody hands clean. You broke a pact of peace, and rejected a merciful offer. Your own people hate you. And so, your fate is that of the dagger.” Lexa called to an absolutely deafening roar of approval.

Lexa reached for the holster that Clarke intimately knew, the one that laid on the side of her belt, by her hip. From it, she pulled the same dagger she’d used to subdue Roan.

Clarke felt the hot tears staining her cheeks.

Octavia hadn’t torn her eyes away, tears freely flowing. Anya held Raven back, while Lincoln grimaced through the entirety of Lexa’s speech.

Jeers were prominent in the crowd.

“Make him suffer!”

“Slit his throat, Heda!”

“Make Wanheda do it!”

Clarke flinched at that, feeling Bellamy’s gaze bore into her own. Why? Why her? Why not Octavia, his own sister?

_Because he’s in love with you, idiot._

Clarke shoved down the reminder.

Lexa turned towards Clarke and her people, dagger balanced between her fingers. Lexa’s voice was still projected when she explained, “His own betrayed, broken family, will have the duty of putting him down!”

Her people roared.

Anya gasped slightly when Raven was the first to step forward, ignoring Clarke’s terrified look, and Octavia’s shocked gasp of “Raven!”

Raven’s tear streaked face was stoic when she murmured, “The dagger, Commander.”

Lexa handed her the blade by the grip, watching as Raven approached Bellamy, now held at the shoulders by two of Lexa’s people.

Raven stepped forward, watching as Bellamy’s whimpers came out as muffled cries. Her eyes narrowed as she came eye to eye with him, the guards lifting him up, still gagged, writhing in their grip.

“You took Finn from me.” Raven whispered, voice like poison. “You took him from Clarke. You ruined him, Bellamy, just like you ruined us. You made us think we owed you something. You know what?” Raven growled, lunging forward with the blade, thrusting it into Bellamy’s abdomen. “Fuck you. You don’t own us. This is for Finn.” She hissed, yanking the blade out.

Octavia’s scream was muffled by Lincoln’s shirt as she cried into it. Bellamy’s shirt stained red, yet he emitted no cry of pain. Raven held the bloodied blade, shoving it into Lexa’s hands as she stormed back to Anya, who looked incredibly concerned.

Clarke watched, noting the way Lexa avoided her eyes as she turned to face the Arkers once more.

“Lincoln.” Lexa cleared her throat.

Lincoln held her gaze, shaking his head. “Jus drein no jus daun, Heda.” He announced, to shocked whispers in the crowd.

“So be it.” Lexa dipped her head, eyes widening in surprise when Octavia stepped forward, hands shaking.

“Octavia!” Lincoln called, but it fell on deaf ears.

Bellamy didn’t seem surprised as his sister approached.

“Are you sure?” Lexa murmured, withholding the dagger a moment longer.

Octavia simply took it from her, eyes narrowing at the sight of her brother. She stepped forward, ignoring the gag in his mouth, tears streaking down her face. “Bellamy.” She whispered, and she instantly regretted it when she realized he was now crying. “You’re my brother.” She reminded softly, gritting her teeth. “You were, anyway. You used to take me on walks, and tell me how you were gonna change the world. You used to pick me up after school for ice cream, just to get me away from mom and dad’s work. But you changed. Something in you snapped, Bell. It became alright for you to obliterate and murder other people to get what you wanted…and what was that, Bell? You lost me…You lost Ray and the others…You lost Clarke. The things you’ve done…Lincoln’s leg…sending our people to kidnap Clarke…You can’t come back from that, Bellamy. I will always remember you. The good you. The one I loved.” Octavia whispered, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, wetting it with her tears.

It was during that kiss that she sank the blade into his abdomen, beside Raven’s cut, stepping back and drawing it out cleanly. Bellamy’s grunt of pain killed her.

He hadn’t tried to say anything during her speech.

Octavia held back a sob as she handed the blade back to Lexa, finding solace in Lincoln’s arms.

Clarke watched, her mind racing, her heart in tatters.

Lexa turned to lock gazes with her for a split second before turning to Bellamy. “If that is all-” She began.

“Wait.” Clarke’s voice was steadier than she expected it to be.

Lexa whipped around, concern seeping through her otherwise placid façade.

Bellamy’s eyes widened.

Clarke shakily stepped forward, to the surprise of nearly everyone present. She held out her hand expectantly, and Lexa blinked at her quizzically. “Clarke.” She whispered, as if warning her, begging her not to taint herself.

Bellamy was bleeding, his non-fatal wounds staining the fabric of his shirt, still standing on his own as the guards held him up.

Clarke didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at Lexa with a fire in her eyes as she took the dagger from Lexa’s reluctant grasp, taking a step forward, turning towards Bellamy, avoiding Titus’ lifeless body. She had miraculously stopped crying, her sobs choked back.

Bellamy flinched when Clarke approached, and Lexa tensed, as if ready to leap to Clarke’s defense. It broke Clarke’s heart.

Clarke stepped forward, lifting the gag from Bellamy’s mouth, shocking all who stood to watch. The guards growled something, but Lexa’s hard gaze silenced them.

“Hey princess.” Bellamy croaked, his voice gone in the pain he was no doubt battling.

“Bellamy.” Clarke breathed, caressing his cheek with her one free hand, the other wound tightly around the dagger.

“I’m sorry.” Bellamy muttered, much to Clarke’s dismay. It would have been easier to off him if he hadn’t been repentant. If he hadn’t said anything at all, and she could live in her hate.

But, as Clarke had learned over the course of the year, nothing was so black and white.

“I fucked up.” Bellamy whispered, heaving.

Lexa looked incredibly uncomfortable from her stance a few feet away.

“I got lost in…whatever this game was.” Bellamy choked out, shaking his head in shame. “But you have to believe me, when I say, I really did want the best for you, and the others. You’re my family. My people. I’d do it all again to protect you.” He strained.

Clarke sucked in a breath, wondering how her shattered heart could take the beating it was enduring.

At least, she could leave his honor intact, even if his words weren’t entirely just.

“Clarke.” Bellamy heaved. “You move on. Take care of the others, alright? Get away from all of this. Okay?”

“Okay.” Clarke whispered, cheeks now wet with fresh tears.

“Promise me.”

“I promise, Bell.”

“I will always love you, Clarke.” Bellamy murmured as Clarke stepped forward, choked sob in her throat as she stepped forward, pressing her lips against his in a delicate kiss.  Lexa gasped, along with just about every other Grounder present, anger flaring off them in waves at the traitorous act. One arm wrapping around Bellamy, Clarke drove the blade into the upper left chamber of his chest, causing the crowd to erupt into panic.

“Thank you.” Bellamy whispered before his shirt stained dark crimson, a deadly rose blooming over the expanse of his already soaked torso.

“That was Heda’s privilege!” Someone called from the onlooking crowd. “You stole Heda’s kill! We’ve been waiting for years!”

Clarke was deaf to their calls, hearing only Octavia’s scream, combined with Raven’s sobs as she stumbled back from Bellamy’s rapidly crumbling body, the guards gruffly keeping him from collapsing entirely.

Clarke felt her legs give out as she stumbled blindly, falling backwards.

Of course, Lexa would never let her fall.

“Em Pleni!” Lexa called out to her people, silencing their looks of shock and anger. “Disperse! Bellamy Blake is dead! Is this not what you came for?”

Her people seemed content, so long as Lexa was.

Clarke felt Lexa’s arms secure tightly around her as she was steadied.

Octavia had all but collapsed into Lincoln’s arms, sobbing, chest heaving. Raven had her face buried in Anya’s neck.

“Lexa…” Clarke gasped, shock rattling her body as she dropped the bloodied dagger. “I…I…”

Lexa’s murmur was soft in her ear. “Not here, Clarke. Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

The last thing Clarke truly remembered clearly was Roan motioning for his people to advance on the two lifeless bodies, going about disposing them, as if nothing had happened at all.

* * *

 

Clarke couldn’t entirely recall how she’d gotten back to Lexa’s bedroom, though she was vaguely aware that she was carried.

She sat on the edge of the bed, blanket around her, while Lexa now kneeled before her, gazing into her eyes, expression unreadable.

“I’m so sorry.” It was the first thing Clarke could think to say.

Lexa winced slightly, watching Clarke’s tear stained cheeks. “Sorry?” She interrogated.

“For…stealing your kill…your revenge…” Clarke whispered. “I didn’t mean to…That wasn’t what I-”

“Clarke.” Lexa’s words were soothing as she rested her hands on Clarke’s knees.

“I…I killed him.” Clarke breathed, staring at her hands, half expecting them to be soaking in Bellamy’s crimson blood.

Lexa blinked understandingly. There was no easy way to quell the pain of someone who’d just taken a life.

“That wasn’t mine to take.” Clarke whispered.

Lexa’s gaze softened. “You saved him from suffering.”

“By your hand.”

“By my hand.” Lexa reaffirmed softly. “You let him die a noble death.”

“…Did he deserve one?” Clarke whispered, feeling doubt creep and bleed into her actions. “Oh, god, Lexa, what have I done?”

“You did what you felt was right.” Lexa whispered soothingly, though she didn’t dare touch Clarke. “But it is done, Clarke. We have to move on.”

Clarke shook her head. “All this time…I gave you grief, for wanting revenge….and I….I ended his life, Lexa.”

Lexa sighed. “You spared him the pain, Clarke. He loved you.”

“And I drove a dagger through his heart.” Clarke laughed chillingly, humorlessly. “Is that what we’ve come to?”

Lexa frowned. “Clarke.” She whispered. “May I touch you?”

Clarke frowned at her for even asking. She guided Lexa’s hands up to her face, where Lexa cupped her cheeks, locking gazes with her. “You came to me, nearly a year ago, seeing the world in black and white. Now, you know that nothing is so simple.”

Clarke sighed heavily, and Lexa knew she had to cut to her point.

“But you still try to be good.” Lexa acknowledged softly. “And that’s why I love you, Clarke.”

Clarke sighed, melting into Lexa’s touch.

Lexa rose up, falling softly on her bed, pulling Clarke down with her. Clarke immediately allowed herself to be wrapped up in Lexa’s arms, sheltered from the world.

“You know…” Clarke began softly, lost in thought.

“What is it, Clarke?” Lexa prodded gently, kissing her temple.

“You’re so young.” Clarke whispered in amazement. “You and I are so young…we’re just…kids…”

Lexa listened quietly.

“But you, Lexa….” Clarke breathed. “You’re wise beyond your years. And I love you. But, don’t you miss being free?” Clarke asked, tears trickling down her face.

Lexa smiled sadly. “I did. Until I met you, and I felt it again. And I still do, whenever you’re with me, Clarke.”

Clarke reveled in her words, slowly pressing her lips against Lexa’s, a chaste, comforting kiss.

“Did it hurt?” Clarke whispered. “Pulling the trigger on Titus?”

“It always hurts.” Lexa replied softly, taking in Clarke’s scent. “But I promise you, Clarke, love can heal a great many things. Just look at what you did for me.” Lexa breathed, and Clarke felt a small weight removed from her chest. It wasn’t much, but it was something, nonetheless.

“Octavia will hate me. Raven, too. God, I didn’t even talk to them, I just…I can’t believe he’s gone…I…” Clarke was spiraling once more.

“Hey.” Lexa cooed. “Clarke.” She whispered. “I’m here. And no matter what they think, I will always love you.”

Clarke cuddled deeper into Lexa’s chest, breathing raggedly still, sore rib forgotten. “I love you too.” It was quiet, but steady.

“So what now?” Clarke breathed.  

“Now, my love…” Lexa sighed, running her hands in Clarke’s blonde locks. “Now we can begin to heal." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Bellamy Blake meets his end. Also: Clarke freaking out about her morally gray life, and then turning around and pulling that. Lexa was more than gracious in her reaction, I think. 
> 
> There is an epilogue chapter to follow this, showcasing the futures of everyone involved. Thank you for all the kind comments, kudos, and messages. This fic was super experimental, therefore prone to a lot more plot holes or errors than anything else I've written. Thanks for sticking with it!


	25. Our Story Ends Differently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short glimpse into our kru's lives.

Life without the overwhelming shadow of death was different. It was lighter to the touch, and it was lighter in Clarke’s heart. It was a strange serenity that she almost felt guilty for feeling.

Lexa did not allow a funeral for Bellamy Blake.

No one protested.

The aftermath of the execution itself was grueling, emotionally. Each couple had fallen into a quiet, steady sort of rhythm. For Anya and Raven, it was a time of respite. For Octavia and Lincoln, one of mourning. For Clarke and Lexa, it was one of healing, of closing old wounds, sewing them shut for good.

The first few days were the hardest.

Clarke felt an immense guilt weigh her down. The more she thought about the mercy she’d given Bellamy, and the revenge she’d stolen from Lexa, the more she hated herself. This overflowed one morning in the form of tears when Lexa heard a sniffling sound from their bedroom. She stepped out of the closet, pulling down her tank top as she frowned, searching for the source of the noise.

Clarke was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, pinching the bridge of her nose, tears freely flowing down her cheeks.

Lexa was over in a heartbeat, arms gently removing Clarke’s hands from her face so she could see what was troubling her.

Clarke flinched at her touch, and Lexa recoiled, instantly aware that something was wrong.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was soft, shades lighter than it usually was. “Talk to me.”

Clarke shook her head. “We can’t do this.” She huffed, misery seeping into every word.

Lexa was taken aback, eyes widening slightly, green gaze now flushed with terror. “Clarke.” She tried once more. “What can’t we do?”

Clarke took a shaky breath, sobs stuck in her throat. “Us. This. You and I.” She motioned between them frantically.

Lexa sucked in a breath. No. This wasn’t happening. “Clarke?” Her question came as more of a croak.

And then Clarke shattered. “I…I shouldn’t have done that, to Bellamy. I tried to do what was right, in my conscience, but I fucked you over, and Lexa, you’re the most important person in my life...” Clarke breathed erratically. “You’ve been nothing but good to me and I threw it away on someone who’s dead now. He killed, and he hurt people, and I let him die thinking I forgave him, because I thought It was right, and…and…” Clarke whimpered helplessly.

Lexa’s gaze immediately softened and she relaxed upon realizing that Clarke was guilty for her sake, not angry or hurt with her. “Oh, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, wrapping her arms around Clarke, pulling her close.

Clarke buried her head in Lexa’s shoulder, tears staining her shirt. “I don’t deserve you, Lexa. I took away your one chance at-”

“My one chance at what?” Lexa scoffed quietly. “More bloodshed?”

Clarke shook, and Lexa’s heart shattered. Clarke was actually convinced that Lexa cared more about Bellamy’s fate than her love for Clarke.

“He deserved to suffer, for what he did.” Clarke breathed. “And I…was so…blind. I couldn’t let him suffer, even if he deserved it. I…I…I didn’t have the strength.”

“No, Clarke.” Lexa murmured firmly. “That doesn’t make you weak.”

Clarke sobbed silently in Lexa’s arms. “Then what does it make me? A coward? An idiot?”

Lexa shook her head. “Good, Clarke. It makes you good.”

Clarke sighed against Lexa, clinging to her tightly.

Lexa pressed on. She’d had time to consider all that had happened in the past week. “Clarke. You came into my life, a year ago, and you brought all this…light, with you. I was lost. In work. In vengeance. In pain. And then you came in, and you questioned everything.” Lexa  murmured. “And suddenly I didn’t want to…hurt…anymore.”

Clarke shook her head against Lexa. “How can you even look at me…hold me…after what I’ve done?”

Lexa looked incredulous. “Clarke. You had to kiss a man you loved like a brother while you drove a dagger into his heart. You made yourself the villain so I didn’t have to be, in front of Octavia and Raven, Lincoln and Anya…You took the fall, Clarke.”

Clarke felt disgusted. “I even gave him that. I kissed him.”

Lexa leaned down, kissing Clarke’s head. “I don’t resent you for it.”

Clarke laughed dryly against Lexa. “You should.”

Lexa sighed, leaning back just enough to cup Clarke’s cheeks. “I love you, Clarke. Do you know why?” She declared, gently, leaning forward to kiss away Clarke’s tears.

“No.” Clarke answered dejectedly. “I will never understand why. Not after this.”

Lexa knew Clarke wasn’t simply being dramatic- this was the way she was mentally dealing with the guilt and the stress of taking a life, her first, no less. Lexa knew just the thing she needed, and was more than willing to give it to her.

“I am in love with you for so many reasons, Clarke.” Lexa spoke softly, tucking a blonde lock behind Clarke’s ear. “But I fell in love with you, at first, for the way you saw the world. For the way you saw me.”

Clarke blinked curiously, allowing Lexa to hold her now.

“You wanted to believe the world was good and bad, black and white, right and wrong.” Lexa explained gently. “You believed that because you always wanted to do good, by others. And when our worlds, Bellamy and my own, tore at you…you didn’t let it change you. You still wanted to do what was right, even if it wasn’t necessarily what you wanted. Clarke, I love that about you. That’s why you’re you. I will never condemn you for trying to preserve yourself, even at my expense.” Lexa whispered, kissing Clarke’s forehead.

Clarke’s bottom lip quivered slightly as Lexa leaned forward to steady it with her own lips.

“I’m so sorry.” Clarke whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey.” Lexa whispered, soothingly rubbing Clarke’s back. “I’m not.”

And thus the healing began.

* * *

 

Two months.

Two months had passed since Clarke had put Bellamy down.

So much had changed in just two months. Life itself seemingly inverted, and Clarke found herself living the life she’d always imagined.

She’d always wanted the quaint house, with the two children, and the picket fence.

Of course, this current arrangement was a bit grander, but with her chosen life partner, what else could be expected?

Clarke stepped outside her front door, allowing the cool woodsy air of their suburban neighborhood to fill her lungs, and the slight morning warmth to warm her skin. She was greeted by a cool breeze and the familiar sounds of steps hitting the pavement before her at a jogging speed.

 Clarke felt a smile instinctively take over her features as her love bounded towards her, just a bit too excited to see her, stumbling and moving without grace.

“Hey!” She grinned as he bounded up the last few steps, practically pouncing on her as he began peppering her face with small, adoring kisses.

The sound of more graceful, controlled steps had Clarke looking up from their love fest.

Lexa approached at a regal pace, tan body glistening with a slight sheen of sweat as her ponytail swayed behind her. Her sports bra clad body left Clarke’s mouth dry as she forgot the English language momentarily.

Lexa was gaping at her, rather jealous of Clarke’s lover, her eyebrows cocked up in surprise. “Fish!” She admonished, and the golden retriever puppy immediately leapt off of Clarke, nuzzling Lexa’s ankles with a whine. “Clarke is spoken for, and I hear I’m decent in a fight.”

Clarke felt a smile tug at her cheeks once more as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s neck as she leaned in for a kiss, their bodies melding against one another comfortably. “Hi. You’re late.”

“Hi. I left late. Thanks to a certain someone…” Lexa echoed breathlessly, squeezing Clarke’s hip affectionately. Fish danced around at their ankles, nipping at the leash that Lexa held in her hand.

“How was the jog?” Clarke asked, hardly detaching from Lexa’s arms.

“Better.” Lexa sighed resignedly.

“He made it all the way around the lake? He’s a tough puppy.” Clarke cocked a brow.

“Well…” Lexa rolled her eyes. “I had to pick him up and carry him for a good mile. Hence, all the energy.” She glanced down at the golden ball of fur that had nestled itself onto her expensive running shoes.

Clarke smirked. “Well, what do you expect? You push him too hard. You can’t be the Commander with him. You have to be Lexa.”

Lexa smiled at that, leaning forward to capture Clarke’s lips once more. “Nonsense. I’ll train him.”

“Oh, is that your plan with me, too?” Clarke teased.

“You don’t need the jog.” Lexa drawled, hands running down Clarke’s sides. “You’re already perfect.”

Clarke blushed a deep shade of red, and then glanced over Lexa’s shoulder, biting her lip.

“Our neighbors. They’re looking again, I know.” Lexa rolled her eyes, taking Clarke’s hand as she led her into their house, Fish trotting along behind them.

“How can you tell?” Clarke gasped.

“Are you forgetting that I’m…trained, for that sort of thing?” Lexa smirked. “Besides. It would take an idiot not to notice that the husband always checks you out in the mornings.”

Clarke smirked, and Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “Frustrating, how you can’t just snap your fingers and have Lincoln and Gustus carry him away anymore, huh?” Clarke elbowed her teasingly.

Lexa rolled her eyes. “I’m more than capable of handling a suburban father, Clarke.” Lexa shot back.  

“Yeah, you know what’s more unsettling? The wife checks you out.” Clarke chuckled, poking a finger at Lexa’s chest.

Lexa laughed at that, and Clarke’s heart warmed as they entered the kitchen together, Fish bounding beside them.

Lexa opened a few letters on the counter, mostly discarding them. She froze at one previously opened letter, a small smile creeping on her face.

“What’s that?” Clarke queried as she rested a head on Lexa’s shoulder, arms encircling her.

“Aden.” Lexa smiled to herself. “He sent a little letter. He made the soccer team. It was a thank you note.”

“Oh.” Clarke murmured softly, leaning forward to kiss Lexa’s cheek. “I’m glad, Lex.”

Lexa nodded to herself as she turned to give Clarke a quick kiss, suddenly remembering why they’d entered the kitchen.

“How’s the job hunt coming, Clarke?” Lexa questioned as she made her way to the stove, settling a pan on it for their breakfast.

“I got three offers. Two hospitals. One private practice.” Clarke beamed, and Lexa winked at her.

“That’s amazing, though…unsurprising. I hear you’re quite the catch.”

“Yeah yeah.” Clarke rolled her eyes at Lexa’s charm. “But…I don’t know. It’ll be strange, going back to that life, after working for you.”

Lexa frowned. “Don’t tell me you miss the hell we’ve been through?”

Clarke shook her head, and then paused. “Well…it is how I met you.”

“I think, for the time being, you’re done meeting dangerous criminals, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, cracking eggs into the pan, then turning to wash her hands speedily. 

“I found one I like, anyway.” Clarke shrugged with a smirk, setting the table as she lifted Fish up, cradling him in her arms and kissing his head. “But…I’ll miss working for you.”

“Clarke.” Lexa sighed, setting down her spatula as she turned to Clarke, arms enclosing both her and Fish into a protective hug. “You don’t have to return to work. I told you, I’m more than happy to finance us for the rest of our lives. You know the company can take it.”

“I know that.” Clarke murmured. “But Lexa, you’re still working from here. Hell, you might even be opening up a new office. I want to be like you.”

“Like me?” Lexa grimaced.

“Successful. Driven. So good at what she does, at such a young age.” Clarke murmured. “I can save people, Lexa.”

“You saved me.” Lexa murmured, leaning forward to kiss Clarke’s cheek, stopping to give Fish a kiss as well, making Clarke’s heart swell even more.

“I think we might have saved each other.” Clarke mused.

Lexa turned back to their omelets, working in the ingredients with practiced ease. She turned to serve them into two plates, eyeing Clarke with amusement.

“Love…” Lexa trailed off, and Clarke’s head snapped up at the pet name. “I know you’re under the persuasion that Fish is a baby, but he is, in fact, a dog…so you don’t need to cradle him every five minutes.”

Clarke laughed out loud, gently setting Fish down as he whined and slid over to Lexa. “Don’t be jealous.” She teased with a grin.

“The great Commander, felled by a puppy.” Lexa shook her head as she sat beside Clarke at the table, squeezing Clarke’s hand.

They ate in comfortable silence, leaning on each other like they’d gotten used to, absolutely inseparable most of the time. They finished, and Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheek, fighting over who got to wash the plates.

In a tandem attack, they finished cleaning together, and Lexa found herself instinctively eyeing Clarke’s hips as they swayed while she hummed

“You know…” Clarke quietly mused. “Sometimes, I can’t believe this is my life?”

“Oh?” Lexa cocked a brow. “Didn’t think you’d end up in a lake house in a suburban neighborhood, nearly three-thousand miles away from D.C, with an ex-marine gangster?”

Clarke bit her lip. “Well, to be fair, I always knew I’d end up with you.” She teased.

Lexa nodded. “Mhmm. Sure, Mrs. Griffin.”

“Well, I mean, after you drugged me on our first date.” Clarke smirked, watching Lexa’s eyes cloud with guilt. “How could I not fall for you?”

“I was protecting my people.” Lexa shrugged protectively, arms encircling Clarke’s waist. “How was I supposed to know that _you_ were my _person_ …” She leaned down, capturing Clarke’s lips. “Truthfully, though…” she murmured. “I was in love with you by that point already.”

“Oh, I hate how smooth you are. You were always smooth. Even when you were my boss and kind of sucked.” Clarke noted, kissing Lexa’s jaw.

“I’ll let that one slide, Griffin.” Lexa murmured, nuzzling her neck affectionately.

“You know…” Clarke sighed contentedly, sweeping a loose strand of Lexa’s brunette hair, fallen from her ponytail, back behind her ear. “I like being able to see you like this.”

“Like what?” Lexa asked, pressing soft butterfly kisses to Clarke’s neck.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” Clarke shrugged, voice brimming with pleasure. “In D.C, you were so…reserved. So tight and formal, all the time. You only got to relax and really be yourself when you and I were alone. And now? Now you get to be Alexandria all the time. I just…I forget how young you are. You’re just a kid.”

Lexa nipped at her skin teasingly, leaning up to gaze into her eyes. “You’re a kid.” She challenged.

“I guess we’re both just two kids in love, really.” Clarke grinned, feeling her heart swell with love.

“Hardly.” Lexa scoffed, in her ever pretentious tone. “We’re going on twenty-six. That’s hardly childish.”

Clarke laughed, pressing her forehead against Lexa’s. “So, what? You want to settle down? Start a family?”

Lexa smiled at that. “Is Fish not enough for you?” she teased.

The puppy cocked his head upon hearing his name, burrowing in between Clarke and Lexa’s legs contentedly.

“No, I mean…kids. I don’t know. Everything.” Clarke sighed breathlessly. “Is that something you want?”

Lexa didn’t miss a beat. “I want you, Clarke. I want what you want.”

Clarke smiled. “I mean, not now. We have a couple of good years left in us, I think. You still have to properly romance me. And of course, marry me.”

Lexa grinned, kissing Clarke tenderly. “Count on it, soon to be Mrs. Woods.”

Clarke laughed, clinging to Lexa as she continued with her kisses, working her way down Clarke’s jawline, hands falling to the hem of her shirt.

Clarke realized that they’d slept together enough over the last two months to make up for all the time they hadn’t been. Of course, she wasn’t complaining. Lexa was fantastic.

“Lexa.” Clarke gasped when she felt Lexa’s hands ride up her bare abdomen. “I…”

Fish abruptly barked when the door swung open, Raven’s voice filling the entry way. “I brought dog treats!”

 Lexa narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip around Clarke, while the blonde chuckled.

“Aren’t you happy we stayed close?” Clarke teased in a whisper.

Lexa grumbled something that sounded like, “I hate family”, before lacing her hand with Clarke’s, turning for the door.

* * *

 

Not an hour later, the house was bustling, as Abby, Lincoln, Octavia, Raven, and Anya had all made their appearances, bringing a dish of their own.

The move out had been tough on all of them, but Abby recommended that they all remain together, as part of the healing process.

Clarke and Lexa had moved first. Lexa kept her manor in Washington, and kept her name as the official head of the C.E.O; though she left it in Gustus’ care.

Octavia and Lincoln seemingly fled, for the first few weeks. They didn’t answer calls or emails, and Clarke’s heart was shattered. Lexa eventually tracked Lincoln down, using her less than appropriate methods, and convinced him to settle down around them.

Raven was shattered, at first. Shaking with anger, rarely eating or sleeping, Anya stayed up many nights trying to get her to adjust to her mistakes. She came around, and her wounds healed with time, as all did.

While the subject was still incredibly sore and tender, the couples had moved on, respectively. Lexa had chosen the location, knowing it was a perfect area to raise a family. She wanted Clarke safe, more than anything, and she couldn’t imagine not pursuing a dream life with her, after all they’d been through.

Abby, of course, arranged to visit for weeks at a time, to operate on Lincoln’s leg, after much debate with several surgeons. It was decided, and he went under the blade with Octavia practically pulling her hair out in the waiting room.

He emerged with an incredibly functional leg, more so than before. The nerve damage was irreparable, but Abby’s handiwork enabled him to move it to a semi-limited range.

Octavia cried. Lincoln was ecstatic. Every day, like clockwork, Abby would introduce Lincoln to therapeutic moves, most of which occurred in a pool.

Lexa, ever the protective leader, wanted to keep a watchful eye on his progress. She and Clarke became the hosts, of sorts.

Things slowly but surely began to mend. Tensions were there, buried, dying. Friendships were slowly being forged.

The house was bustling. Fish was scampering excitedly, following Octavia as she laughed quietly, keeping an eye on Abby, who sat across the table from Lincoln, pointing to his knee and murmuring something.

Raven and Anya were bickering like an absolute married couple in the yard about something seemingly stupid, though Clarke smiled as she took it all in.

Raven was coming back. Her raven. The snarky one, who laughed, and smiled, and made cute jokes.

Clarke bit her lip, thinking that maybe, somehow, Bellamy could have been there, laughing and sipping on a beer beside Lincoln, or playing fetch with Fish and Octavia.

But of course, it didn’t do her any good to dwell on what couldn’t be.

* * *

 

Clarke turned towards Octavia, catching her nuzzling Fish at the end of the garden’s expanse. She glanced up at Clarke, and her eyes steeled slightly.

Yes, it stung, but not as much as before. Before, her eyes would darken, and a tempest of rage would swell within her. That much was over, at least.

“Octavia.” Clarke greeted gently.

“Clarke.” Octavia replied, giving Fish a rub as she rose from her crouched position.

“I was hoping to catch you.” Clarke noted as Octavia made her way towards Lincoln, where Abby had just left to speak with Lexa. Clarke made a mental note to interrogate Lexa about that later.

“You caught me.” Octavia replied, sitting beside Lincoln, motioning for Clarke to take the empty seat.

“Hey sis.” Lincoln leaned over, squeezing Clarke’s hand, instantly making her feel welcomed and at ease. (Let alone the fact that this was her own house.)

“How are things?” Clarke tried awkwardly.

Lincoln was about to reply when Octavia piped up, looking positively heated. “Really? How are things? Cut the shit, Clarke.”

Clarke flinched, but tried to school her expression. If Lexa heard Octavia, or anyone really, addressing Clarke with such blatant venom, Clarke feared they’d have a fight on their hands.

And, as good as Octavia was, Lexa would have her down in milliseconds.

“O.” Lincoln reproached softly, and Octavia seemed to relax, the dynamic not unlike Clarke and Lexa’s.

“Sorry.” Octavia sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s…hard. You know?” She took a sip of Lincoln’s beer. “Hell, you probably hate yourself more than any of us.”

Clarke nodded, taking a deep breath. Sure, Octavia was volatile, but she had a right to be. Bellamy’s death impacted her far more than anyone else.

“Listen…” Octavia sighed. “I’m…trying. I really am. Some nights, I don’t….I don’t sleep at all. I see his face. Not from…not from that night.” Octavia shuddered slightly. “From when we were kids.”

Clarke blinked back her emotions, nodding silently. “I’m sorry, Octavia.”

Octavia took a moment to regain her composure. “Me too. But…not for what you did. You gave him chances. You tried to save him. Hell, in the end, you did save him. I’m just sorry for what he became. And what he did to us all.”

Clarke nodded, eyes tracing Octavia’s features. “Are…are we okay, O?” Clarke tried tiredly. “I really want us to be that way again.”

Octavia’s rare smile surfaced, and she gently reached across the table. “Clarke. We’ll get there.” She promised, and though it wasn’t exactly what Clarke wanted to hear, it wasn’t a no, either. “But look at me…” she demanded, and Clarke met her gaze. “You’re always my sister. Always. Mine to protect. Mine to love. Tell your girlfriend that if she ever does anything to hurt you, she’ll have me to deal with.”

At that, Clarke was grinning. “I will, O.” She promised silently, excusing herself. Before she could turn around, Lincoln had grabbed her wrist, hoisting himself up to wrap his arms around her. Clarke gasped, slightly surprised by his action.

“You made it, sis. You survived. This is all because of you.”

Clarke squeezed him even more tightly after that.

* * *

 

Raven and Anya parted ways with hazy smiles as Anya excused herself past Clarke into the house, while Raven came to stand beside Clarke at the steps, a calm smile on her features.

“You look good, Griff.” She muttered, though Clarke recognized her attempt at socializing with ease.

“Lexa makes me run. She’s like a drill sergeant.” Clarke cracked a joke, smiling when Raven through an arm around her shoulder.

“That’s gross. Don’t tell me you’ve gone all suburban on me. Gonna start popping out babies soon, too?”

Clarke bit back a laugh, and Raven’s eyebrows shot up. “No shit, Griff. You’ve taken the mighty Commander and whipped her into a gay housewife.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, smiling as Fish bounded over to her, and despite Lexa’s earlier protests, she picked him up anyway rubbing his ears with a smile.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” Raven mused aloud.

Clarke shook her head. “I was just telling Lexa about this.”

Raven frowned to herself. “I know this sounds weird, but…It’s scary.”

Clarke tilted her head up in a questioning glance. “What is?”

“This. Life after D.C. I don’t know.” Raven hugged her arms, feeling suddenly cold. “I mean, I know it’s stupid, because compared to our lives before, this is paradise but…Things getting serious with Anya…Saying bye to Finn, and Bell, for good…” Raven shrugged. “Fuck, I don’t know. I never thought I’d have to give Lexa Woods a hug.”

“You don’t have to hug her.” Clarke teased lightly, nudging Raven’s arm.

 “It turns out she was right all along, huh?” Raven grumbled, kicking at nothing in particular. “Turns out she was the good guy and we were all bad…if it could ever be that simple. It’s just scary to think about.”

Clarke shook her head, watching as Fish nuzzled into her. “You know what Finn told me?” She asked silently.

Raven’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of her former love. “What?”

Clarke began with a sigh. “I was nervous, for my first day at Ark Hospital. Really nervous. Like, I might have thrown up a little-”

“Lovely imagery.” Raven quipped, and Clarke shot her a smile.

“Point is, I didn’t want to admit that I was terrified. Following my mom’s legacy without her even being there to help? And Finn grabbed my shoulders, and he kind of looked me in the eye, and he smiled. He told me that there was nothing wrong with being afraid. He told me the trick was to stop fighting it.”

Raven blinked rapidly, nodding as she cast a glance in Octavia’s direction. “He was right, I guess.” She laughed somewhat dryly, smiling as Clarke gently set the puppy down in her arms.

“So…” Clarke shrugged, rising from her seat on the step. “Be scared. You have Anya.” She smiled as Raven stuck out a hand, which she clasped tightly for a moment, before giving Raven peace.  

Anya and Raven seemed to be alright with giving each other space to think, to reflect, to grow.

Clarke, however, never strayed too far from Lexa’s side, the only exception being her morning walks. Pathetic as it was, the two couldn’t handle being apart, quite yet. That seemed to hold true for every couple there.

Clarke approached Lexa, who’d been holed up in the kitchen with Anya, exchanging whispers that no doubt reeked of D.C. and its ongoing events. As Clarke stepped into the house, she could hear Lexa’s murmurs.

“And Gustus?”

“He’s respected. They love him…. Not as much as you, but more than Roan, anyway.” Anya supplied in a low whisper.

“And the people?”

“Safe.”

“Anya-”

“Lexa, I wouldn’t lie just to placate you. Things have died down, since the Blakes disbanded.” Anya supplied gently. “They’re just waiting for Heda to return home.”

Lexa gave Anya a weary smile. “I am home, Anya. Far from my parents, and Costia…” She blinked back any emotion she felt. “Away from the carnage.”

“Of course.” Anya nodded slowly.

“And you? Can I expect my sister to stay here, instead of going back to D.C.?” Lexa questioned softly, as Anya wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug.

“Where you go, I follow.” Anya promised. “It would be good for Raven, anyway.”

Clarke bit her lip and wheeled around, not wanting to disturb their moment, but of course their trained ears picked her up before she could make a motion.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice called, and Clarke turned apologetically.

“I was just going back out.” Anya promised, reading Clarke’s gaze as it led her to Raven. “I’ll see you two outside.” She excused herself rapidly.

Clarke stepped towards Lexa apologetically once more. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was velvet. “Don’t. This is your house too. We weren’t talking about anything I wouldn’t share with you.”

“How many times have I told you to leave your work discussions at work?” Clarke scolded dramatically, wagging her finger like a peeved housewife, though she stepped forward to Lexa.

Her emerald eyes shined with recognition when Clarke stepped forward, and Clarke quickly found a muscled, tattooed arm pulling her in.

“Happiness looks good on you, Clarke.” Lexa murmured, sighing as Clarke leaned a head against her shoulder.

Another day had burned brightly before them, the sun turning the sky vivid pinkish orange colors as the clouds rolled by, carried by the breeze.

“Walk with me?” She pleaded gently, and Clarke couldn’t resist.

The two departed from their little get-together, following Lexa’s usual morning jogging route by the lake, where the water peacefully sloshed against the sand. It rippled in waves of blue and orange, as the setting sun cast a fiery glow over its once placid expanses.

“It’s just…good to see everything come together, after all that’s happened. You know?” Clarke murmured, glancing up at Lexa. “I know you’re still getting used to this whole family thing.”

Lexa smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Clarke. I’m at home.”

Clarke smiled back and glanced around, back at the house. “We did do a nice job, didn’t we?” She sighed contentedly.

“I wasn’t talking about the location Clarke.” Lexa turned, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m talking about you.”

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding as she leaned on Lexa. “You know…I’d been thinking. I was just thinking back to how all of this started, and…I thought Octavia and Raven are my best friends. I mean, they were….” She trailed off, and Lexa frowned, heart breaking for Clarke.

“They still are…” Lexa offered, but Clarke shook her head.

“No…” Clarke protested gently. “What we went through…I lost a little part of that, I think. With Bellamy’s passing. A little part I don’t think I can ever get back…” Clarke took a breath, arms going around Lexa’s neck. “I didn’t realize this, until now, but…You’re my best friend, Lex.”

Lexa blinked in surprise, her arms tight around Clarke’s waist.

“I mean, I know it started with you as my superior, and all, but…” Clarke shook her head. “I don’t know. What I’m trying to say is…you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know what would have been my life if I hadn’t bumped into you at Kane’s office, or if we hadn’t been at such stark odds from the very beginning. And…I’m not proud, of everything that’s happened. God, I wish things could’ve ended differently. But just…know that, if it was the only way I could have you, then…It was worth it.” Clarke finished quietly, watching Lexa’s glassy eyes with her own smile.

“I agree, Clarke.” Lexa breathed, leaning down to draw out her lips in a tender kiss. “I agree with all of it. I would do everything, all over again, if it brought me here, to you.” She murmured against Clarke’s lips, kissing away the watery tears on Clarke’s cheeks.

“I love you, Alexandria Woods.” Clarke murmured as she pressed another kiss to Lexa’s lips.

“I love you more, Clarke Griffin.” Lexa whispered, hands slipping to Clarke’s thighs to pick her up as if she weighed nothing, Clarke’s legs wrapping around her waist. Lexa gently guided Clarke down as they fell softly where the sand met the grass, the sounds of the lively chatter from their home carrying towards them.

Clarke curled up vulnerably in Lexa’s warm arms, burying her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck to place a kiss there before glancing up at the rapidly darkening sky, where only the brightest stars were beginning to make an appearance.

“Lexa.” Clarke murmured, drawing out her attention.

“Hmm?” Lexa hummed, her hand gently rubbing circles at Clarke’s side.

“Do you remember the first time we made love?” Clarke mused silently.

Lexa seemed taken aback. “I doubt I’ll ever forget, Clarke.”

“Do you remember then, when I asked about your tattoo? The one on your back? And you told me the story?”

Lexa nodded, eyes sparkling with realization. “Ah. The star crossed lovers. The Sky and the Earth. Sure.”

“You know…” Clarke bit her lip. “I’ll never forget it. You told me that it ended tragically.”

Lexa blinked, her voice a low murmur. “The Earth was desecrated, destroyed. The Sky had to watch it slip away.”

Clarke took a shuddering breath, not even able to imagine life without Lexa. “But you told me-”

“I told you our story ends differently. Happily.” Lexa murmured, leaning forward slightly to kiss Clarke’s forehead.

“I didn’t believe you, at first.” Clarke whispered. “I thought, with our situation…there was no way. I thought we’d crash and burn. But here we are...And I've never been happier.”

"We wrote our own story, Clarke.” Lexa reminded tenderly, leaning forward to press a loving kiss to Clarke’s lips, brimming with the fragile but steady promise of tomorrow.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended a sequel and written one out- hence, such a short epilogue here. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get to that, but at least we have closure on most fronts here. Thank you very much to everyone who followed along. I think it was strange to write Clarke and Lexa in such a carefree setting, for this AU. They're finally happy. It's been such a fun journey to write! If you have specific questions, you can ask me on tumblr, and I'll try to wrap up this AU as best as I can! 
> 
> I'm on tumblr @ effortlessly-opulent if you'd like to request a prompt, drop by and say hi, etc.


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